


The Solar Sea

by mer_maider



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Arranged Marriage, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Falling In Love, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Growing Up Together, Inspired by The Swan Princess, Loss of Virginity, Lotura - Freeform, Romance, Royalty, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-07-03 22:46:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 31,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15828474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mer_maider/pseuds/mer_maider
Summary: Emperor Zarkon and King Alfor united their kingdoms for peace in the universe, and in that unity, they each promised their children's hand in marriage to ensure it. Now, Prince Lotor of the Galra Empire and Princess Allura of Altea meet once a year as each other's betrothed. But what once felt like a curse to Lotor in childhood quickly becomes something else entirely when the man sees the woman Allura has become. As the years until their eventual wedding pass, being with her feels less like a royal obligation and more like his divine destiny.





	1. The Altean Princess

**Author's Note:**

> An AU of sorts inspired by [THIS](http://gyodragon.tumblr.com/post/177160818281/ever-since-they-were-little-children-the-galran)
> 
> most wonderful art by the talented [Gyodragon](http://gyodragon.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, and the movie The Swan Princess, which is a beloved trend in the Lotura family. 
> 
> For this fic I've written Zarkon and Honerva a certain way when it comes to Lotor even though they're not the tyrant and the witch that we know from the show. Zarkon still isn't a very good father even though he's not crazy evil.

The only positive element in this arrangement, as far as he was concerned, was the trip to Planet Altea.

Prince Lotor sat still in his seat, focused eyes unable to wander from the approaching jewel-like planet as his father’s command ship traveled through space. The screens around them stated they would be arriving at the royal capital in less than a varga, but before they landed and the games of politics would begin, he would just stare and study the wondrous sight before him in the blessed quiet.

If you asked the crown Prince of Daibazaal, the planet he would soon set his boots on was much more beautiful than the place of his birth. Altea was magical, colorful, full of life and prosperity and love. The luscious green of the planet calmed him, the enchanting history intrigued him, and the bright wide blue skies helped him take a big, easy breath of fresh air. Lotor couldn’t wait to sneak away, as he did with each visit. To the libraries, to the labs of the alchemists, or even into one of the nearby villages, as he had last time, where he’d met a fascinating blacksmith and had gloriously been given the honor of helping to craft an Altean broadsword before his father’s guards had found him and led him away.

“We’re not here for this,” Zarkon had said to him, a tight hold on his upper arm as his father tried to keep his voice down. Lotor went along easily. “We’re not here for silly games. We’re not here so you can run off for immature entertainment. We’re here for business. Get back to it.”

Zarkon, with his hand on Lotor’s lower back, gave him a shove that would appear to be only a concerned father reprimanding his mischievous son. A shove to where he knew the Princess and her family were waiting for him with boring refreshments and abhorrent small talk.

Silly games, Lotor had questioned in his mind but would never speak. This entire arrangement was a silly game.

Emperor Zarkon of Daibazaal and King Alfor of Altea had long ago conceived a plan almost immediately after both had conceived their only children. One son and one daughter, the descendants of the great Paladins of Voltron. The royal offspring of two mighty defenders of the universe. A prince and a princess.

Before Allura could walk and Lotor could talk, they were betrothed. Intended, promised. Destined to marry to untie the two kingdoms and begin a new era of peace and prosperity between Galran and Altean. A merging of the royal courts.

Business, Lotor thought with a quick roll of his eyes when his father wasn’t looking. That’s all it was.

And he had no say in the matter.

Once every deca-phoeb, since the two were fit to travel the stars as babies, Prince Lotor and Princess Allura would meet, alternating planets every time and spending an entire movement _getting to know each other_. Last deca-phoeb she’d visited Daibazaal, and as Lotor awaited the torture of having to once again entertain her somehow at his father’s command, he’d been given the glorious news that the Princess had fallen ill during the trip. Both Zarkon and Alfor, concerned for her health for different reasons, had confined her to one of their guest chambers so she could recover from a simple virus. Lotor hadn’t seen her the entire movement. He’d never been so happy for someone to be sick.

But he wasn’t a monster, and had still sent her flowers on his own time. He’d even chosen them himself.

The Princess was fine for this duteous visit, and Lotor had long given up the hope that another complication would spare him the tedious task of trying to get the Princess to like him. Again, his father’s command.

He would much rather explore Altea on his own. Lotor felt drawn to the planet, had felt that connection ever since he’d first stepped foot on the grounds and breathed in its air. There was something about Altea, something about _Alteans_ , that lured him in like a ravenous man craving all that the planet and its inhabitants had to offer. He felt an odd sense of belonging, something he didn’t feel with the Galra because the Galra treated him like a lowly half-breed. They didn’t do that on Altea. He looked more Altean, spoke like one too. He was accepted here, so accepted that some stranger of a blacksmith would welcome the Galra Prince into his shop to help him with his work and teach him a little something.

As he stared at the planet that was getting closer and closer, Lotor took one moment to ease forward, glance over at his mother.

As usual, Honerva didn’t feel her son’s excitement of returning to her home planet. She only sat next to his father, also dressed in Zarkon’s colors, stoic and quiet with small hands folded neatly in her lap.

A customary gesture, he’d heard her say on multiple occasions. That’s all this was to her. Some tradition Lotor wasn’t sure she even approved of. His mother would rather be back on Daibazaal, continuing her work.

But visiting Altea once every two deca-phoebs was his own reward. And as his captivated eyes glistened from the reflection of the planet’s silver rings, Lotor considered it enough.

Uneasiness cut right through his elation, as it always did when Lotor sensed his father’s gaze on him. His jaw clenched tight and his chest felt like it sunk in. His palms started to sweat under his red gloves and a hint of anxiety slithered up his spine. A little wary now but knowing his place, Lotor craned his head up and met his father’s dark eyes.

Zarkon seemed to study him. The inspection started at the top of Lotor’s head and down to his boots. The son remained still.

“I should’ve done something about your hair,” Zarkon muttered, eyes focused on the white locks that now touched Lotor’s shoulders. “Wouldn’t want to give Alfor the wrong impression.”

Lotor almost self-consciously reached up to touch his head, but he kept his hands on the armrests. He rather liked the length. “Dayak would’ve seen to it if she thought I was unfit.”

“Dayak is Galra and teaches you _our_ ways, not those of other races. She also allows her sweet spot for you to cloud her judgement.”

Sweet spot? Lotor wanted to question. His no-nonsense governess was anything but sweet. He had the scabs from her switch on his knuckles to prove it. “Perhaps then it would be beneficial to all of us for her to expand my education? She could incorporate both Galra and Altean studies, seeing as the wedding will blend our kingdoms into one. Or we could give her a partner. Mother might know of a suitable teacher on Altea who would be willing to return with us to tutor me.”

Zarkon breathed out a deep laugh as he looked over at his wife. “What do you think of that plan, my love? Would you like to conduct these interviews for our son?”

Honerva kept her eyes in front of her and simply answered, “No.”

“No,” Zarkon confirmed, turning back to Lotor on the other side of him. “After you are married, you will have your entire life to learn about Altean customs and history and whatever else you’d like to fill your thirsty brain with. When you aren’t leading the Empire or continuing our family line, of course. My flame will burn for millennia.”

Lotor turned away at that. He’d long ago stopped feeling humiliation when his father would talk to him about mating with the Princess, to give his own children to the Empire. It was expected of the Galra, to immediately brand your blood mate as your own forevermore after committing yourself to her. Perhaps, when it came to Lotor and Allura, it wouldn’t take as long to conceive a child as it had for Zarkon and Honerva. Lotor was already half Altean.

Remaining on the subject because any dobash now the soldiers around them would begin preparations for landing, Zarkon leaned down to his son and murmured, “I shouldn’t have to remind you to keep your hands off of Alfor’s daughter, but now that you are both no longer children, I’m going to do so anyway. She will remain pure until the wedding so that this union will be an honorable one. The Lions will know if you attempt anything… untoward, and then you will never be worthy to pilot Voltron. Do not embarrass me.”

The Lions will know. How many times had Lotor heard those words? He was pretty sure that wasn’t how it worked, that you couldn’t pass down a mystical machine made of a trans-reality comet like you could a crown. But he’d learned not to speak out of line, especially when it concerned Voltron. “I won’t embarrass you, Father.”

“Won’t you?” Zarkon asked, settling back into his seat. “No more running off. No more fraternizing with the Altean commoners when you should be impressing the royal family. The entire universe is watching you, boy. You are to be an example. You will strengthen the Empire.” Zarkon shifted his eye down at his son without moving his head, inspecting him yet again. It was a good thing Lotor looked more Altean for this marriage. Without Alfor’s agreeing to the betrothal, his son would have no chance with a full-blood Galra female. None would have him looking the way he did, even if he was a prince. But by Altean standards… Honerva had explained to him that most of their women would deem Lotor handsome. His Galra features weren’t that prominent. “And you will fight yourself to defend the Princess’s honor. If I find out you’ve been inappropriate with Alfor’s daughter, there will be consequences.”

“Why do you find it necessary to keep remind—” Lotor instantly closed his mouth when Zarkon’s head snapped in his direction. He couldn’t let frustration get the better of him. “I apologize.”

“I find it necessary to keep reminding you because I have been your age. You have not seen Alfor’s daughter in two deca-phoebs. That is a long time for a young woman to… blossom. The Galra know the scent of their mate, and I have given this task too much of my time not to see it through. You will do as I say. Enough fooling around. A future husband _steps up_ for his beloved.” Zarkon knew Lotor had it in him to finish the task. He’d seen his son manipulate the court in his favor. A trickster he was, when not held firmly on the leash Zarkon would hold tight until the time was right. And because Lotor had the ability, Zarkon didn’t trust him at all. “I should’ve done something about your hair,” he muttered yet again.

The dismissal was clear. Zarkon was done talking with him. As usual, Lotor felt the almost crushing sense of disappointment he would never, ever defeat when it came to his father. Taking a slight risk, Lotor looked over again at his mother. Just a small quick glance in case there was something she’d like to add.

Maybe even… a defense of some kind on his behalf.

Honerva said nothing at all.

They were then cleared by the planet to land in the capital’s landing zone, the secured one in front of the castle used only for the royal family and their cherished visitors. Lotor forgot the frustrations with his father, almost forgot entirely what was expected of him as they entered Altea’s atmosphere. Excitement fluttered like wings in his chest. He could practically smell the air, feel that warm breeze on his skin, see the books and technology and architecture. A world full of multiple riches.

A world his mother had left for Zarkon.

Lotor would find some way to escape his family and his future one that would come with marriage. He didn’t loathe spending time with Princess Allura, but it seemed to him that all their interactions were proof of how they were like night and day. She was putting on a show, just as he was. They didn’t truly know each other. And they wouldn’t be able to under the watchful eyes of their parents. In his memory, she was just a young girl who was playing a part she hadn’t grown into just yet.

He only wanted to explore Altea.

The ship landed and the ramp lowered. Daylight hours, Lotor saw, with the sun shining bright and the white clouds swimming through the sky over the warmth of the tail end of summer. The soldiers exited first, and he followed behind his parents, cracking his back for good posture and slicking back the hair his father apparently hated. The sooner he made yet another fine impression, the sooner he could do what he wanted. From behind his parents, Lotor could see the small Altean group awaiting them. He spotted King Alfor, Queen Melenor holding onto his arm. Both were beaming with smiles. Their various advisors and servants tended to their needs.

Here we go again, Lotor thought with an inner sigh.

“Emperor Zarkon,” Alfor greeted warmly, his regal armor shining in the sunlight. “Empress Honerva. As usual, we’re honored to have you with us.” His eyes found Lotor. He studied him closely, and squeezed his wife’s hand a bit. “Prince Lotor. Welcome back to Altea.”

Lotor respectfully leaned into a bow. “Your majesty.”

“You’re looking quite well,” Alfor said, eyes roaming. And quite sad, he added mentally, something the king had been picking up on when it came to the prince. “He’s a handsome young man, Zarkon. I’m impressed.”

“Thank you,” Zarkon replied, and Lotor almost scoffed out loud.

 _You will do as I say_.

“Enough of these dull pleasantries,” the Queen chirped, almost bouncing in place. “We’ve been through them a hundred times, and we’ve already lost a deca-phoeb. Coran,” she called from behind.

Lotor knew Coran, Allura’s stand-in second father, the man who would literally die for her if given the chance. What strange Altean monstrosity had he dressed the Princess in this time? Lotor wondered, as the small crowd parted and he waited blandly to _once again_ see his betrothed after all this time apart. Allura had been a tiny thing the last time he’d seen her. Flat and shapeless, like a piece of wood. A late bloomer who would sometimes talk far too much or suddenly start tearing up out of the blue. It was obvious to him that not much would’ve changed, even as they entered young adulthood.

Coran, dressed in his usual attire, tugged on a hand from a body behind him. His face was practically gleaming with joy, his smile big and toothy under the outrageous orange moustache. “Here she is, your highnesses. Apologies for the delay.”

He’d been able to hit pause on this silly game, Lotor mused, showing hardly an expression as Allura was placed on the board with him. Now they had to resume playing. Their lives were nothing but a book being written by their parents. Lifting his eyes to greet her, Lotor opened his mouth to give her the mandatory _dull pleasantries_.

Something went wrong. Something short-circuited. Something completely froze him to the bone.

She was… a vision. A stunning, glorious vision.

Dressed in her colorful formal gowns, Princess Allura gave him a bright smile that rivaled the shining star above them in space. Her white hair, like a cloud, tumbled down around her frame, a frame that was no longer comparable to a piece of commonplace wood. Her body was curvy, her gowns hugging it, falling over the delicate bends and bows of her form. Her beautiful skin shimmered and her Altean markings the prettiest of pink to compliment her most beautiful, dazzling eyes. She had changed, in every way possible. A vision. It hit him like a bolt of lightning and torched his brain.

_A Lion Goddess._

So striking was she that Lotor could only stand there, the mouth he’d opened to give her meaningless words hanging like a fool, his eyes going dry from the absence of blinking in fear that she would disappear like a radiant spirit. One he would be searching for his entire life.

“Prince Lotor,” the vision, the goddess said to him, approaching him carefully with that sunny smile. “I’m so glad you’ve made it to Altea safely. It’s nice to see you again.”

Her voice, smooth as silk and heavenly bells, made his mouth snap closed and the skin over his cheekbones darken just a bit. Was this the same girl? he desperately wanted to ask. Was this the same little thing he’d once been so annoyed with? He’d thought these lifelong trips a useless thing, a prison sentence he could not escape. A choice he could never make on his own. Neither could she.

As Allura smiled at him – did she feel the overpowering rush too? – all were suddenly jerked back in time.

They were seven deca-phoebs old – Allura was a bit older – and they were standing exactly where they were in the present. On Altea, right in front of her castle home, their parents and Coran and the universe watching closely as two royal children of two different kingdoms interacted, destined to one day marry. Lotor had been shy, almost cowering behind his mother’s legs in boyish clothes of red and silver. Zarkon had taken his small hand and pulled him out, had given him a little shove to meet the youngling princess waiting for him.

Allura had been anything but shy.

They stood in the middle, Altea’s sun shining bright above them. His parents behind him, Allura’s in the same spot on her end. She was a friendly little thing, even waved at him with the flick of her tiny brown fingers. Lotor had his head bowed, chin on his chest, a blush on his cheeks. He hadn’t known so many people would be here. His father hadn’t told him about all the people. Glancing behind, Lotor looked to Zarkon for… some kind of encouragement or support. Some help.

Zarkon gave him the look. _Do as I say_ , it said. Lotor knew it well even then.

“Hello, Prince Lotor,” Allura had said to him, her hands behind her back and her body wiggling a bit so her dress swished at her shins. She was excited to play with a new friend. She hadn’t stopped talking about it for two whole movements. _Mother, when will my Prince be arriving?_ she’d asked each day. “I like the color of your skin. It’s pretty.”

Lotor had only blushed deeper and tried to huddle in on himself. He felt so alone. He had no one. Allura’s father stood closer to her than his own to him. “Thanks,” he’d muttered in reply. Zarkon had cleared his throat loudly behind him. Lotor instantly straightened up. “Um… Thank you, Princess Allura,” he corrected, easing into an exaggerated bow that made him feel silly.

“Would you like to come play with my toys? I have quite the selection. Coran is even willing to play the dragon. He’s the Coranic dragon,” she added with a giggle. “It is very amusing.”

Lotor had only stared at her, not sure what to say. So many eyes, so many faces he didn’t know, and now the Princess wanted to bring him somewhere unfamiliar. Or was it familiar? He couldn’t remember. His father had said he’d been here before, but it didn’t feel that way.

Be nice, Zarkon had said in the command ship before landing. Be polite. Be a gentleman. Be a prince.

Do as I say.

Lotor was overwhelmed. He didn’t know how to act around other children; he was mostly kept away from them. His small chest felt like it was heaving, his hands were fisted tightly at his sides. He wasn’t going to cry because he was out here, so alone. No comfort. He didn’t want to be here. He wasn’t going to cry.

Suddenly, Alfor kneeled down next to him, crouched to his height. Allura’s father, the king, Lotor rehearsed in his head. He was in trouble for not speaking up, for not answering the Princess.

But Alfor only smiled warmly at him.

“Are you alright?” the King asked gently, keeping that smile in place. He tried to hold the boy’s gaze – eyes like the Galra, he saw – but Lotor didn’t know if he should look back or stare down at the floor.

Lotor gave one fast nod, little thin tendrils of white hair flicking in front of his face. “Yes, sir.”

“It’s okay to be nervous. You’re safe here, I promise you.” Alfor leaned in a little closer for privacy. He’d been watching Zarkon and the Prince’s interactions closely. It was a different relationship when compared to the one he had with his own child. “Just breathe. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. You can just be yourself. Allura is herself every day.”

Just be himself? Lotor questioned. But didn’t that go against being a Prince? Prince’s acted a certain way. Conflicted, Lotor finally looked up and held the King’s gaze. His breathing calmed when Alfor set a comforting hand on the back of his head.  

“What is it you would like to do, Lotor? You’re our guest. You can play with Allura, or we could go for a walk? Or down to the park? I have a feast prepared for dinner, with lots of sweets for dessert in your honor.”

It was a little too long to Alfor’s liking for Lotor to completely relax, and finally offer the smallest of smiles. Why was Zarkon or Honerva not over here to calm their own little boy who was so obviously overwhelmed?

Lotor’s eyes found Allura. Alfor could practically see the wheels spinning in his head as he weighed the options, as he considered all that was offered to him. Finally, he made a decision.

“Do you have swords?” Lotor softly asked her.

“Yes!” she answered delightedly, clapping her hands. “Come, I will give you my best one. Together we will slay the Coranic dragon.”

Lotor stared at her hand for a tick or two before finally taking it. She pulled him into a slight jog, Coran skipping after them, as they headed for her play room.

Another jerk. Back to the present. And Allura was a wiggling little girl no longer.

Now she was a _woman_. And Lotor couldn’t seem to remove his eyes from her. A punch, is what it felt like. A lovely, striking punch he didn’t have the speed to block.

“Princess Allura,” he said finally, wondering how much time had passed with him staring at her like a degenerate fool. “You look radiant. Thank you for having me.” He cursed himself for saying that. Hopefully she didn’t take it the way his mind did.

She only continued to beam up at him. “Your hair,” she commented, and again he cursed himself. Was his father right? Did he look like a barbarian? “I like it. It suits you.”

Well, he thought, grinning back at her. Wasn’t that a point for him in this game?

“Come, my friends,” Alfor announced, waving them over as he turned with his wife. Pride was swelling in his chest at the Prince’s reaction to his girl that had now come a long way from a nervous little boy. “I’ve prepared refreshments. I’m sure you’re all famished. I certainly am.”

 

* * *

 

 His plan to somehow sneak off and his actual first quintant on Altea hadn’t matched up in the slightest. And neither did the quintants after. Lotor quickly discovered that he didn’t have to sneak off to explore Altea because Allura had decided to take him to see her kingdom herself.

She took him everywhere his time would allow, within walking distance or a quick shuttle trip to the nearest ocean village. With her hand on his arm and a spring in her step, Allura happily updated him on Altea’s progress in all areas, showed him her own personal projects in diplomacy, and introduced him to all the locals who wanted to meet the Galra Prince. He’d never seen so much of Altea and probably wouldn’t if not for his betrothed’s insistence, and he was immensely grateful for it. Unbeknownst to him during his time away from her, Allura had blossomed into her role as Princess.

He couldn’t even be disappointed when they would return to her castle. Usually he wanted out, but to sit with her in the library, quietly reading with her or listening to her explain some Altean history to him, he realized he was right where he wanted to be. She fascinated him, he was marveled by her.

Princess Allura was gorgeous and smart and powerful and kind.

Lotor wanted her desperately.

_Do as I say._

With his father’s voice in his head warring with the desires of the flesh, Lotor kept his hands off of her besides the simple gentlemanly gestures like assisting her out of a vehicle or suffering from her warm hand in the crook of his elbow. One time, in the library, she’d unconsciously set her hand on his knee in the middle of overly explaining an Altean holiday to him. Lotor could barely hear her, only stared at that hand and held his breath until she removed it. He’d tried his best to fill in the blanks of her conversation while giving her his full attention. Distracted, was what he was.

It was now his last night on Altea, and returning to Daibazaal felt like an impending punishment. Back to Dayak, back to training, back to the Galra who still refused to accept him. Back to the Gladiator Pit.

Back to trying to survive by any means necessary.

But until then, he would enjoy the dinner set out before them in the banquet hall, enjoy the last of Altea for another two deca-phoebs. Enjoy Allura’s company until he saw her again at this time on Daibazaal.

Wine was poured as the empty dishes were cleared. Their parents and other diplomats conversed amongst themselves, and even the other Paladins of Voltron showed up for the feast in their Lions. The Blue Paladin, Blaytz, eventually snuck off with one of their Galra servants who had accompanied them to Altea. Lotor noticed the crafty exit of both men, but didn’t bring it to anyone’s attention.

Quite frankly, he was envious of them.

Allura sat next to him, laughing at something Trigel said. For the dinner, she’d dressed herself in a long flowing dress the same pretty pink as her Altean markings, the snug sleeves reaching her wrists and the neckline a wide V shape that gave him a lovely view of her delectable collarbone. Her hair cascaded down her back, her eyes shining like the jewel in her tiara. The sweet scent of her was far more appetizing than the feast that had been cleared away.

 _The Galra know the scent of their mate_.

Lotor forced himself back into the conversation.

“I heard you had troubles with an attack on one of your markets, Alfor,” Zarkon said, his large hand resting on top of Honerva’s on the table. “A lone wolf with a blaster. How did that fare?”

“Fortunately, we stopped him before any fatalities. There were multiple injuries, of course, but no loss of life. He self-terminated when he realized his mission had failed.”

“Then I congratulate you on your victory.”

“Actually Allura,” he continued, mentioning his daughter who sat across from him next to the Prince, “was the true hero. She was in the area and arrived before I could. I can’t tell you how many Alteans she lifted right from the ground, blood on her dress, transporting them all to the hospital and seeing to every last one. She even stopped the second attacker herself who’d come to finish the victims off.”

Lotor looked to her, astounded. “Truly, you did all of that?”

She gave a nod. “Yes. The second attacker was the first’s sister. For whatever reason, they were disturbed, and never sought medical assistance for their mental health. It was a great regret to me that they didn’t. My mother,” Allura said, gesturing to Queen Melenor, “works heavily with the hospitals of our planet. She is a doctor herself. If they’d asked for help, she would’ve seen to it. Instead, they resorted to violence and attacked the people. While I was assisting my mother with injuries in the hospital’s courtyard, I spotted a woman with a weapon in her hand approaching the group of survivors. Before she could shoot, I apprehended and disarmed her. The royal guard took her away and no one, save for the first aggressor, lost their life.”

Gyrgan, the Yellow Paladin, lifted a leg of meat he had yet to finish. “Brave girl!”

Lotor’s brows rose and he felt that rush again. A Lion Goddess protecting her people. “You’re amazing, Princess.”

“She is,” Alfor echoed proudly, waving with his wine glass. “I taught her everything she knows. Allura will make a most magnificent empress to both the Alteans and the Galra. She is kind and compassionate and certainly skilled on the training deck.”

It was a test, and Alfor looked to Zarkon, waiting to see if the Emperor would chime in with grand praises of his own son. Zarkon said nothing, and Honerva felt no qualms looking above to the clock on the wall, ignoring her full glass of wine.

Alfor didn’t know what to think of it. He was given regular updates on Prince Lotor – for his daughter’s protection – and everything he’d read seemed admirable to his eye. Lotor exceled in his studies, was quite the skilled swordsman and pilot. He spoke eloquently and knew how to present himself, and it was obvious he had a great attraction to the Altean culture, the other half of himself. Allura also hadn’t mentioned any inappropriate behavior during the whole movement. By all accounts, Lotor had been an upstanding gentleman. He’d also grown to be an attractive young man. Lotor and Allura would make beautiful babies together.

So why wasn’t Zarkon quick to lift up his own child? Especially when this marriage was so important to their individual court’s history? Alfor looked to Lotor, who was now glancing almost longingly out of the grand wide windows of the banquet hall where the stars gleamed in the night sky.

His parent’s behavior was nothing new to the Galra Prince, it seemed, and it saddened Alfor greatly.

“Allura, why don’t you take Lotor down to the fields to see the juniberries? They won’t be in bloom for much longer. He should see them now while he can.”

Lotor instantly perked up at the King’s suggestion. He wanted nothing more than to continue seeing more of Altea with her, and he was actually desperate to see the famous Altean flower.

“A fabulous idea. Shall we?” she asked, standing and motioning for him to join her.

The King and Queen of Altea grinned at each other as the two headed for the exit, Allura’s arm around Lotor’s own and the other hand resting on his forearm.

Zarkon didn’t turn to look after them, and he waited until Alfor was pulled into deep conversation with Trigel. In a low voice full of warning he knew his son would hear behind him, he uttered, “Remember what I told you.”

Lotor stopped on the way out and Allura felt the sudden tension in his body. She looked with concern to him, then back at Zarkon who now paid them no mind. With no expression on his face, it took Lotor a few ticks before he resumed leaving the banquet hall with Allura on his arm. Keep your hands off of Alfor’s daughter, was what Zarkon was darkly reminding him of, now that he would be alone with the Princess. Don’t ruin this for the Empire.

 _Do as I say_.

 

* * *

 

 Allura didn’t mention the… strange interaction with Zarkon as she led Lotor out of the castle, down a few paths and into the nearby field next to the mountainside as the stars and Altea’s moon shown above them. There was a lovely warm breeze too, and in the quiet of night, with the castle a sparkling star itself in the distance behind them, she dropped down onto the grass surrounded by thousands of beautiful juniberries. She’d long ago stopped worrying about the juice of the berry getting on her dress, but luckily for her, the berries had already been harvested, leaving only the flower. No purple stains to sully her pink skirts tonight.

Lotor cared less than she did about potentially ruining his deep red tunic over black sleeves as he sat next to her. He ran his hand over the cool grass, stared up at the twinkling sky, inspected the mountainside. It seemed he wanted to look everywhere at once, and it was an annoying thing to him that he couldn’t.

She found his interest charming.

“So,” she began, smoothing her pink skirts. “What do you think of the juniberries?”

Lotor drifted his fingertips – careful of his claws – over the soft petals of one. “As lovely as I expected. This entire planet is… spectacular.”

“Thank you,” she replied with a proud grin. “It is a glorious sight to see when people from all over the planet come together for the harvest of the berries. It is quite the celebration.”

“The summer berry festival.”

“Yes,” she murmured, watching his hand touch the flower before he pulled away. “We should rework the schedule the next time you come to Altea so that you will be here for it. There is an ocean of juniberry wine, and muffins and jams. And music, lots of music and dancing. I can already foresee the young ladies asking the handsome Galra Prince for a dance.”

He didn’t know what to think of that. Galra women weren’t so inclined in such things. “As long as the first one is with my princess.”

“Of course,” she answered plainly. “It pleases me that you know so much about Altea. I’m afraid I’ve _lazed_ in my own studies of Daibazaal. I promise to change that.”

“Don’t worry yourself over it. Altea genuinely interests me.”

“I’ve always assumed it did. Considering that, when we were children, you would take any opportunity to escape me and wander down to the village.”

He flinched and frowned. “Ah, well…”

Allura laughed softly, waving her hand at him. “I don’t mind. You were a curious little boy, who was I to keep you from your adventures? I rather enjoy it that you’re so interested in my home. Which, I suppose, is your home as well, being half Altean. A home away from home.”

The frown didn’t budge and his eyes remained on the flower.

Allura felt a tug of worry. She didn’t know what it was like to be a half-breed. “Have I offended you?”

“Oh no. No, Princess, not at all.” He met her eyes then, a smile forced there now. “I… suppose I do feel drawn to Altea. I rarely get the chance to visit, and when I do, it is quite difficult to enjoy my time here the way I’d like.” He heard his words in his head, flinched again. How rude could he be? “Ah, I did not mean it that way. What you’ve shown me this trip…”

“I understand you, Lotor, you don’t have to make excuses, I promise. I only hope that this visit you were able to enjoy yourself. I made it so you didn’t have to sneak off.”

He stared at her, sitting in the grass surrounded by flowers in the moonlight. His heart thumped hard in his chest. “I must say that I’ve never had a better time in my life. That is in great thanks to you.”

Her eyes sparkled, and his heart now flipped. “I’m sure you will return the favor when I come to see you on Daibazaal next deca-phoeb.”

“Yes,” he muttered, worrying a little. How could anything he show her on his planet compare to the majesty of Altea? Was he honestly going to show her the Pits? Or the brutish Galra military bases and his mother’s unwelcoming laboratory? “Hopefully you won’t fall ill next time.”

Allura smirked. “Are you honestly going to sit in my flower field and act like you didn’t consider my sickness a small blessing?”

He only blinked at her, then shook his head when she laughed again. “You enjoy teasing me.”

“You’re making it quite easy to do so. I thought the flowers you sent me were beautiful, by the way.”

“I’ve also come to realize that I have very much underestimated you, Princess.”

“Isn’t that the point of these trips? To come to know each other? It will be a few more deca-phoebs before we marry. And at this time for the next one, I will be on Daibazaal, and we shall know even more.” Allura leaned back on her hands, felt the soil under her palms. Her feet stretched out before her and Lotor could see she’d removed her sandals. He studied the arch of her foot and the swoop of another pink Altean marking on the tops beneath her toes.

“I don’t know how I will be able to wait another deca-phoeb to know you better,” he said softly.

“Is there something you wish for me to tell you?” she asked, moving her skirt a little so he could now see a bit of her shin. “On our last night together until Daibazaal?”

He had to move his eyes away from her skin, the little he could see, more still with her shifting. But he couldn’t seem to manage it. The marvelous mountains and flowers of Altea were right there for him to absorb, and all Lotor wanted to look at were her delicate ankles.

“Or,” Allura continued, and he could’ve sworn she’d moved a tad closer to him. He could feel her shoulder on his arm. “Is there something you’d like to tell me instead?”

He was finally able to move his gaze to her face, and he found her staring right at him. There was a gust of warm wind, her hair flowing out like white streams behind her. He knew what he wanted to say. And as he thought it, his heart went from a thump, a flip, and now to a great knock against his ribs.

“I think, truly,” he said softly, mirroring her pose and leaning on his hands, leaning against her now, “that you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

She smiled exquisitely, and the scent of the flowers wafted up, clouding his mind as if she’d willed it. “Truly?” she asked in a whisper.

“Yes.” There was that rush, that knock, that great jerk that had slammed into him when he’d spotted her on his arrival. Each and every morning this last movement, he felt it all over again when she would come to retrieve him. “You are remarkable, Princess.”

Her chin tilted up, her lips parted. Had she always been this close to him? “I prefer it when you say my given name.”  

Not the scent of the flowers clouding his mind, Lotor thought distantly. Her, the scent of the princess, his betrothed. It entered his nose, and like poison, slithered inside his body until it infected him completely. He could feel it, couldn’t stop it.

Welcomed it instead.

“Allura,” he said, his voice gravely and her lips looking more delicious than a feast. Was it improper to line the shape of her mouth with his entranced gaze? Was it wrong to be pulled closer to them? To want to sample that sweet flavor? He couldn’t seem to help himself. “May I kiss you?”

She was already meeting him halfway, breathing, “Please,” before their mouths connected.

The taste of her was better than the wine had been, better than anything he’d ever tasted before tonight. He kept it soft and sweet, held himself back when all he wanted to do was change their positions and devour her. He felt her adjust a little as she pushed herself up some by her hands, felt a firmer press of her mouth. The movement made him lose his mind, made his eyes open and his pupils form into little blue slits. A primal need welled up inside him, one he’d never felt before her obvious insistence.

The poison spread deeper, gripping his organs, his knocking heart crashing against his bones.

Lotor was unable to stop himself from moving, from grabbing the side of her neck and changing the angle of his mouth, prying open her lips with his and dipping his tongue inside. He felt a rush of her breath against his face, a soft little sound in her throat under his hand. The taste of her tongue made him growl against her, made him desperate for the other flavors of her all over her body. He wanted to bite at those ankles, to nibble on her hips, to find her slick and slurp her right up in one big gulp.

He didn’t know if he pushed at her or she pulled him, but suddenly her back was lying on the flowers, their mouths remaining connected and his tongue still buried inside. He was hot, so very hot, and she was too, he could feel it. It was the poison, burning him up like a furnace.

_The Galra know the scent of their mate._

Lotor’s eyes snapped open again, his sharpened fangs dragging against her lip. And his father’s voice in his head.

_Do not embarrass me._

On a hard groan, Lotor pried himself away from her, their lips smacking apart. Still leaning over her, he saw her cheeks flushed, her mouth shiny, and her hair spread out around her on the grass. He could also see a faint red line on her lip where a fang had dug in, his hand still on her neck. He yanked it away.

“Allura,” he breathed, his chest now panting. “I’m so sorry. Forgive me.”

“Lotor.”

“I…” His eyes were darting everywhere, still hungry blue slits because he desperately wanted her. Especially now that she was lying on her back beneath him. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“Wait,” she said quickly, grabbing the lapels of his red tunic before he could move away. “Why are you apologizing? I didn’t deny you. In fact, I pulled you closer.”

“I can’t…” He took a moment to swallow, to breathe. But the more he stared down at her, the more he wanted to climb on top of her. Her grip on his clothes kept him from crawling back. “I want you,” he blurted out.

Ancients take him now.

Her grip tightened, her eyes staring into his. The change in those Galra hues was mesmerizing. “Then why did you stop?”

“Because I…” Lotor sighed and closed his eyes. Zarkon was in his head. His father had known exactly what he was doing when he’d made that comment before he had left for the field with Allura. Usually he could move past it, but right here, like this, he felt like he was being yanked in two different directions, and he couldn’t handle the pressure of the pull. “I have to defend your honor. A future husband does so for his beloved.”

Allura drew her brows together. “My honor? All of that belongs to me, and does not need defending, I assure you.”

“Of course,” he answered swiftly. Stars, he was ruining this. He couldn’t please his father and now he couldn’t please the princess. And he could barely keep up with holding himself back with his cock throbbing in his pants. “I need to keep my hands off of you. Until after the wedding. It is what’s proper and respectful.”

“Proper and respectful,” she repeated softly, rolling the words around in her mind. “It is not improper for a woman to want her betrothed. It is not disrespectful if I give you permission and you give me yours.” One hand left the tunic to reach up to his face, brushing some of his hair back. The act seemed to soothe him. “You don’t need to stop.”

“What would your father think?”

“My father trusts me. He’s raised me well, and if he didn’t have that trust, he never would’ve allowed me to be alone with you. If I choose to kiss you, if I choose to touch you, and if I choose to lie with you tonight…” His eyes went dark at that, his claws sinking into the soil on either side of her. “Then that is how it shall be. You don’t have to worry. You’re doing nothing wrong. And it would please me greatly if you would kiss me again. That is, of course… if you want to.”

If he wanted to? Stars, if only she knew how much he’d suffered being around her all movement, watching her beautiful form, seeing her interact with her people, listening to her and discovering how smart she was. He’d suffered, but in the best way.

And, for the first time in his life, he’d felt completely at ease with someone.

When Zarkon wasn’t ruining that ease with his voice in Lotor’s head, of course.

Allura’s hand touched his cheek, her thumb brushing under his eye where Altean markings would be if he wasn’t half Galra. He would match her if he was a full-blood Altean, he mused almost sadly, moving his face into her hand so his lips would brush against her palm. He could live here with her. He could be just as magical as she was.

He would not be doing whatever he could to stop this unfamiliar _animalistic urge_ to mate with her. Something she obviously didn’t have.

But she wasn’t cowering away, he told himself as that thumb of hers now slid over his lips like a kiss. She plainly saw the change in his eyes, had felt the fangs in his mouth and the claws on his hands. She’d heard his growl and felt his strength, that _urge_. And here she was, on her back and still wanting more.

How could he deny her now, or himself? Away from her, he was constantly being denied in every way.

Lotor moved until he was hovering over her once again, and the closer he got, the more her smile spread. His shoulder length hair fell like curtains, her hand brushing them to one side as his mouth grew closer and he could practically taste her again.

“I want to very much,” he finally answered in a whisper.

Allura slid an arm around his neck, the other still gripping his tunic to keep him right where she wanted him. “Then kiss me, Prince Lotor.”

He did, a soft simple peck at first that quickly deepened when she opened her mouth for more. In the Altean night, in a field of juniberries, with the castle sparkling in the distance and a princess keeping him close. They breathed against each other, not wanting to separate for even a few ticks, her hand moving into his soft hair and the other caressing his neck. Lotor shuddered over her as her back arched a little, her breasts dragging against his chest. He wanted more than his tongue inside her mouth. What he wanted, more than anything, was to spread her legs and climb in between them, hike them around his waist and drive her into the flowers until she lay gasping beneath him.

And even still, he felt a little hesitant to touch her.

She liked to kiss deeply and wetly and he gave her all that she wanted, their lips smacking before they would merge once again. At some point, with Lotor completely occupied with kissing her, Allura moved her hand down his chest, over his stomach, pushing it further still.

Until she pressed firmly between his legs.

“Allura,” he gasped while rearing back.

“Oh,” she breathed at the same time, then spotted his discomfort and pulled her hand away. “Did I hurt you?”

“Stars, no.” Lotor eased back just a little, looking down at his pants. The tunic was covering his lap but he knew there would be a noticeable bulge there if it wasn’t. It wasn’t helping that he could smell a delectable sweet scent coming from her lower half too. “Allura, I must confess to you that it is taking everything in me not to… cut to the chase. And I’m not even sure how far you’re willing to take this.”

“I thought I made my intensions entirely clear.”

He held back a groan and adjusted his position next to her a bit. At this point he wouldn’t care if it was her hand or his own between his legs. “You certainly have,” he affirmed, accepting it now. “But before we continue… I must tell you that, though I appear more Altean in my features, there are certain parts of me that are all Galra.”

Her hand still tingled from the fleeting moment she’d felt him in the exact spot he was mentioning now. “So you’re saying…?”

“I am… not small,” he confessed, watching her face closely for any hint of hesitation. “Galran men and Altean men are quite different. I don’t want to frighten you, or overwhelm you. I will do my best to move at your preferred pace but, when mating, the Galra tend to… lose any inhibitions or self-control. And the scent of you, Allura,” he said softly, taking another breath of it and feeling that rush again. Driving him mad. “I’ve never felt such an urge to take.”

She smiled up at him and laughed gently. “Then take me,” she said simply, her glittering eyes darkening some with naughtiness before she reached for the neckline of her pink dress, tugging it so a few tiny buttons he’d been unaware of popped open, revealing more of her luscious brown skin. “I want you to.” She opened it all the way to the bottom of her ribs, more pink markings there for him to see. His eyes followed intently, like a map to the whole beautiful universe. “The Galra parts of you,” she continued in a soft, silky voice, drawing him in like creatures to light. “Your eyes, your teeth, your hands, your skin. I find it all very thrilling. I find _you_ , my Prince, very thrilling indeed.” Allura then brushed the front ends of her dress to the side, baring her breasts to him. “I want to mate with you, Lotor. Right here in the juniberries.”

This time he did groan as he stared down at her chest. His eyes contracted to those primal slits again, he exhaled, and Allura could see those sharpened fangs ready to sink into skin. Needing his hands on her, she went to reach for them, to place them on her body. But she didn’t need to encourage him any longer.

Lotor instantly leaned down, nipped at her collarbone that had been torturing him all night, dragged his tongue up her neck, his teeth along her breasts. Allura shivered when she felt his tongue on her nipples, another part of him all Galra, and even gasped some when his hands fisted the open ends of her dress, yanking her up by them so he could feel more of her breasts against his face. Devouring her, consuming her whole, none left to share because she was all for him. Where to start, where to end, where to continue, he didn’t know. He wanted it all.

_Such a thrill._

Back to her lips, back to her mouth. As he kissed her ravenously, Lotor reached down for the long skirts of her dress over her legs, started pulling them up inch by inch. Her fingers had slid into his hair, tightened on his locks when he shoved his hand up her dress to grab ahold of her panties, pulling them down her legs. Allura took his tongue again as she shimmied a bit, then kicked her underwear off of her ankle and into the field. He got her skirts up, uncovered her. The warm breeze on her skin felt nice, but made her very aware of how wet she was.

“Lotor,” she sighed after another kiss, adjusting her skirts a little when he spread her legs and crawled between them. She was already panting in anticipation and a touch of nervousness, her bare breasts heaving. “Have you done this before?”

He sat on his knees between her legs so he could remove some of his clothes, not wanting her to be the only one half exposed out in the field at night. Lotor grabbed his red tunic where his father’s symbol lay on the chest, yanked it over his head and swiftly removed the tight black shirt under it. “No,” he answered, feeling no shame when his cock was this hard. “Have you?”

It took her a moment to reply, her enthralled pink and blue eyes drifting over his half naked body. Not only was he handsome, but the Galra Prince was svelte; slender and lightly muscled. She came back to herself when she spotted Lotor staring intently down at her exposed cunt, his mouth open like he wanted to take a great bite out of her. “No,” she whispered, and like his, her eyes lowered to the bulge under his pants. “Let me see you.”

He didn’t have to be told twice this time, or really mull on the fact that both of them were untouched. Not when he was so close to remedying it. With his heated gaze still locked between her legs, one hand grabbed her thigh while the other tugged down his pants to pull out his throbbing cock.

 _Not small_ and _not Altean_ were appropriate ways to describe him. Lotor was big, the entirety of him ribbed, darker in color than the rest of his pretty skin. Thick too, she saw, watching with wide eyes as his hand grabbed his cock, pumping it a little to relieve some of the built up pressure. Did the Galra, on their first time mating, she wondered, have a hard time keeping themselves from finishing early like most Altean men? Because it seemed to her that Lotor could potentially mate for quintants.

She was then snapped out of her thoughts when Lotor grabbed her hips, and yanked her closer to his cock.

Not a knock now, he thought, moving to hover over her so he could watch her beautiful face. A mallet in his chest, his heart attempting to burst through his ribs and fall right on top of her. His hungry eyes roamed her body; her lovely skin, her tasty breasts, her swollen mouth. How could he be so nervous to take her and so driven to pleasure her and so desperate to mate with her all at the same time? No feeling was superior, they were all equal inside him. But nestled like this between her thighs, her hands now resting on his bare shoulders, one grew far more demanding than the others.

His instincts screamed at him to mate, so Lotor let them take over and placed his hips into position. She was wet and warm and welcoming when the tip of his cock found her, even more so when he pushed inside. Only slight resistance, he found, trying to keep his heated eyes on her face, but the further he pressed, his lids lowered and his body tensed from the overwhelming sensation of intense pleasure. More, more, more, and her body gave it, made him shake, made him shudder, made lightning shoot up his spine until he bottomed out, grunting when he did.

Allura, he thought, panting against her and realizing that she now had an arm hooked around his neck, her other hand grasping under his shoulder. He’d practically collapsed on her, their chests heaving against each other, his face buried in her hair and the scent of the grass under her head mingling with her own natural fragrance making his mind spin. She breathed steadily, her eyes closed and her brow a bit pinched.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked in a whisper, right against her ear.

She gave a soft mew sound, and her body tightened around him in one big clench that made him moan into her neck.

“I’ve got you,” she breathed, smiling now as she adjusted. “A tight fit, my Prince.”

He needed to move, needed that drag and push into the wet and tight, indeed. Some men destroyed themselves over the inside of a woman, and buried deep inside the princess, Lotor could understand why if they all felt as amazing as she did. Instinct took over again. His hips drew back, plunged inside.

Allura inhaled sharply, and clutched at him tighter.

What a sound, what a sensation, he thought, fucking into her again, again and again and again until he started to lightly sweat in the warm night, her own skin dotted with perspiration when he leaned up so he could look down at her. He lowered his mouth to kiss her, slid his tongue inside when his cock did the same into her cunt. His Galra eyes went from a heat to an inferno as he watched her, almost predatory every time she gasped or moaned or sighed his name. Mark her, the beast demanded, and Lotor even set his open mouth against her neck, only setting the tip of his fangs there. Instead of biting down, he dragged his tongue over her skin instead.

“Allura,” he growled against her, removing his hand from clawing at the grass next to her so he could cup a breast, his hips smacking against hers. “How does it feel?”

She had a lazy smile on her face, one that spread a bit with every pump inside her. “Marvelous,” she sighed, placing a hand on top of his own over her breast while the other snuck down between their bodies. “Keep going.”

“You know what it feels like?” He rubbed his face over hers, her lips catching his in a quick, breathless kiss before he licked up her cheek. “To come?”

“Yes,” she whispered, shivering and moaning at the slight change of angle when she wrapped her legs around his waist. “Yes, yes, I want to come.”

Lotor then snapped his hips hard, taking a moment to just linger there, swaying slightly from side to side to savor her sweetness. And that’s when he felt it, the movement of her hand between their bodies, between her legs. He peered down to see, saw her fingers furiously rubbing her clit. So shiny, so hot, the rest of her so full of him. He was mesmerized by the action, the way the base of his cock pulsed deep inside her as her hand gave herself more pleasure. Just the smallest bit of friction, and he could come just watching her.

“Lotor,” she then whined, her face falling into a slight grimace. “Move. Please move.”

Huffing out a breath, his head gave one quick shake so he could get back to the task of making her come. All these deca-phoebs of visiting her or her traveling for him, all this time of being told he wouldn’t have a choice on who he would marry, and all the vargas where he’d schemed so he could sneak away from her; Lotor thought of it all, how wasted some of it had been, how precious if it meant he’d be right here with her, like this. The princess of the planet he loved.

The only person to see him, and give him a choice.

So close, he thought, fucking into her hard, rutting her into the grass and the juniberries and making her gasp with every surge inside, reveling in those fast movements of her hand between their connected bodies. His hands clawed into the ground on either side of her and he set his forehead on her collarbone, her body squeezing him, coating him, ending him.

“Lotor!” she suddenly cried, grabbing at him, moaning repeatedly as her hips moved in small thrusts under his own.

His name on her lips, her hold on his body, and that delicious wet _pulsing_ around his cock finished him off. He came deep inside her, driving into her at that same frantic pace when instinct had him eager to fill her with his seed. He fell on her as he panted, her cunt still throbbing around him.

He didn’t know how long he remained that way, practically crushing her into the flowers, her legs still locked around him. What brought him back from the daze was her petting hand on his hair, fingertips drifting up and down his spine. Against his chest he could feel her slightly shallow breaths. Lotor quickly lifted himself up.

The same punch he felt in his gut when he’d first seen her in the beginning of the movement caught him again as he looked down at her, her eyes sparkling and exhausted in the best way, her body loose and her hair mussed from sex, a lazy satisfied smile on her lips. The poison he felt inside him since they came to the field, the infection, was so soon going to kill him.

“Well done, my Prince,” she hummed, stretching out on top of the juniberries.

He was careful to slide himself out of her, and not feeling the constriction of her around him made him feel like he was somehow _without_. Lotor gave her another kiss before moving away, relishing in the touch of her hands on his face as he did so, and sat next to her so they could both dress and compose themselves. Pulling the black sleeves back on and his pants up, he went quiet as he held the red tunic, eyes flicking over to Allura every now and then as she buttoned up her pink dress and smoothed down her skirts after retrieving her panties. She spent a few moments picking petals and blades of grass from her silver hair before she spotted him gazing down at the tunic, focused mostly on the Empire’s yellow emblem.

“Is something wrong?” he heard her ask before she scooted up next to him.

Lotor knew he wouldn’t trade this movement, this _night_ , for anything in the universe. He’d made the decision to lay with her, and even now he wanted to do it again. But without overwhelming desire taking hold of him and his departure from Altea in the morning awaiting him, he realized that there might be a battle in store for him that he would never be able to win.

 _If I find out you’ve been inappropriate with Alfor’s daughter, there will be consequences_.

He wasn’t frightened – he’d long ago stopped feeling fear – and he absolutely didn’t want to burden Allura, but Lotor couldn’t seem to stop himself when he said softly, “My father will smell you on me.”

He knew her face would be confused if he were to look up at her. She didn’t know anything else other than the love and acceptance and trust she’d spoken of earlier when it came to her father, and Lotor cursed himself for uttering the words.

“I don’t think so,” she said almost carelessly. “The scent of the juniberries is very sweet. I’m sure it will overpower anything lingering on either one of us. And if that doesn’t convince you, then I’m sure everyone has gone to bed by now. You need only to head straight for your quarters and close the door.”

Both options were plausible and something he’d already thought of. He gave a slightly nod. “You’re right,” he agreed, and tugged the tunic over his head.

He could feel Allura’s eyes on him as he pushed his fingers through his hair, smoothing it back neatly.

“Lotor,” she began hesitantly, taking a few ticks before she continued. He already knew what she was going to say. “Would Zarkon be… angry with you? For lying with me?”

Angry. Lotor pondered over the word as he pictured the Galra Emperor instantly knowing his son had lain with the Altean princess in a flower field outside her own castle. Would he be angry? Would he be disappointed? Would he come to not care at all if the betrothal was undamaged? He couldn’t know because Zarkon’s interactions with his child were usually unpredictable. The discovery of Allura’s and his… deflowering – and Lotor hated that word – could mean nothing, just as it could mean extra lessons, more time with Dayak, more inspections.

Another fight in the Gladiator Pit with the Empire watching him closely.

No, he thought quickly, brushing those thoughts away. No, he would not ruin this night for her, or himself while he was still in the juniberry field under Altea’s moon. Whatever fate awaited him, he would gladly accept.

“It is nothing to concern yourself with. As you said, everyone is mostly likely off to bed.” He gave her a smile, his eyes back to normal, his body no longer quivering with unshakeable lust. “I will hate to leave you in the morning.”

The sincerity in his voice made her soften. “I must confess that I had an… ulterior motive when I brought you out here tonight. I didn’t simply want to show you the flowers.”

Lotor turned to her, his head slightly tilted in mock innocence. “Is that so? How sly of you, Princess.”

“You should also know that I was studying you closely, in case you were uninterested. Of course I wouldn’t have pressured you if you denied me.” Allura ran a hand down his chest to pretend to smooth the fabric as an excuse to touch him again. “But my intuition told me that it was highly possible you were in fact very… interested.”

He laughed softly. “I was interested the moment I saw you after my arrival. It will forever be a regret of mine that I’ve put other matters before you these last deca-phoebs. I was incredibly foolish.”

Allura gave a simple shrug. “Our time was not then, and we mustn’t regret. I don’t regret anything.”

Not poison, Lotor realized then as he stared down into her eyes. It wasn’t poison she’d placed within him, burning him up and driving him mad for her. It was something better, something fresher, something brighter.

A soothing water that cleansed and healed. That’s what she felt like.

She then frowned and looked down some. “Lotor… If my pursuing you has caused strife between you and your father—”

“Allura, please,” he interrupted, taking her wrist gently. “There’s no need to worry about me, I promise you. I will never forget this night, even long after we’re married.”

His words seemed to ease her, and to add to it, he placed his forehead against hers and purred for her softly. They sat there in the flower field, under the twinkling sky full of star gems and a bright moon, the sweet scent of juniberries surrounding them within the wind. When the castle’s lights in the distance began to blink, signaling them back for bed, Lotor captured her mouth for one last breathless kiss.

The two fixed each other up as best they could, Lotor attempting to brush out her hair with his fingers, Allura picking some foliage off of his clothes. When they finally reached the Castle of Lions, the halls were dark and the night guards stood watch, giving them no attention as they passed them by. Lotor escorted her to her chambers, wished more than anything he could go with her to her bed.

Allura gave him a reassuring smile, a knowing one too of the fun they’d had in the flowers. “Good night, Prince Lotor.”

“Good night, Princess.”

They kept their eyes on each other until the door slid closed between them.

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning, as their parents bid each other farewell, Lotor and Allura put on the draining act of saying goodbye. It was different this time, they knew, keeping their night a secret with only the juniberries of Altea to know. Before, saying goodbye had been just another obligation that would come with these visits, and the only one he would look forward to if it meant it would be over until the next deca-phoeb.

Now… he couldn’t wait to see her again.

“Be well, Princess,” he said, hands dutifully at his sides, feeling his parent’s gaze upon him at his back as they waited for him to board the ship. “I will be ready to receive you on Daibazaal in a deca-phoeb’s time.”

She grinned, her hair pulled up and a bright blue dress adorning her body. Hands behind her back. “Vrepit sa, Prince Lotor.”

Hearing the Galran salute on her lips was strange, but also endearing. Impressed by her, Lotor eased into a bow, feeling a faint pain in his chest that he would have to leave her. But before he could turn to head for the ramp and onto the ship, Allura snatched his hand, quickly placed something in his grasp. He looked down.

In his hand was one juniberry flower, a deep pretty purple and lightly scented.

The pain increased a bit as he looked into her smiling, most beautiful face.

“For you,” she murmured softly, then dipped into a polite curtsy. “Until Daibazaal.”

Until Daibazaal, he thought moments later, sitting in the ship and watching Altea grow smaller. His father said nothing to him, neither did his mother. Both had no comment on the flower he held in his hand.

He clutched it tight, already longing for the Altean princess.

 


	2. The Prince of the Galra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone should know that the theme song to this story is [Sleeping Sun](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZMvkunOnkAM) by Nightwish and you are obligated to picture Lotor and Allura dancing in the juniberry field as you listen to it. Enjoy. 
> 
> Inspired by [THIS](http://gyodragon.tumblr.com/post/177160818281/ever-since-they-were-little-children-the-galran) art by Gyo.

The day had finally come.

A little older, a little stronger, a little wiser. A deca-phoeb had passed, and Daibazaal awaited the arrival of the Altean royal family. Interested Galra watched from their screens as the hover drones recorded the same moment so many from across the universe had witnessed since the young royals had still been in nappies. Not only the Galra and Alteans who would be affected by the marriage, but planets from countless solar systems intrigued by the merging of two mighty kingdoms would tune in every time when Prince and Princess would be reunited once again. Some had been watching since the announcement had been made by the Galra Emperor and the Altean King, the Red and Black Paladins of Voltron. To see this wedding through was an investment for many, even if only for entertainment or to simply witness a pivotal moment in galactic history.

And for the first time in his life, Lotor couldn’t wait to see her.

He’d been patient for an entire deca-phoeb since leaving Altea. Gone was the anxiety of having to put on a show for his parents, for the King and Queen, for his people, and all who were watching a moment that would never be a private one. He didn’t feel aggravation with having to give the Princess his time and energy, or curse the moment his father and hers had come up with this ridiculous scheme that would take away his freedom. His right to choose his blood mate.

A prison and a punishment, is what this betrothal had always felt like to him.

Not anymore. Not since Altea, and the field of juniberries that held a secret.

Not since Princess Allura had bewitched every last inch of him.

Lotor stood in the landing zone, staring up at Daibazaal’s constant sunset sky as he waited for her. He spotted the tiny bright light that would be the Red Lion heading for the planet from space, heading right for him and carrying Allura, her parents, and Coran. How different their traveling was, Lotor mused as he continued to be patient while watching the light. Zarkon always left the Black Lion with the Empire when they would journey to Altea, choosing to take the command ship and guards and servants to accompany them for the entire movement off-planet. King Alfor brought only his wife, his Lion, and his daughter each and every time to Daibazaal.

His nerves fluttered at the thought he should’ve never given attention to. Daibazaal and Altea, the Empire and the Altean Kingdom, were different. The way the two were governed, the way they looked, their very _presence_ , was so unalike, and it was a wonder they would one day combine. Zarkon and Alfor were not similar men or leaders. Lotor knew that better than anyone.

Allura had visited Daibazaal as many times as Lotor had touched Altea’s ground. Why was he now worried about the difference of their planets, their families? How he could please her here the way she’d pleased him on Altea last deca-phoeb? He didn’t think it was possible, but Lotor knew the answer.

Things were different now, as different as Altea and Daibazaal. He’d never cared about making a good impression when it came to his betrothal before.

Now… he wanted to do whatever it took to ensure Allura’s happiness.

For an entire deca-phoeb, he rarely stopped thinking of her.

The Lion grew closer and Lotor perked up when he could see the small splash of red in the midst of swirling orange clouds. He was sure his placement on the landing zone preparing for the Lion was giving the broadcasting drones quite a picture, especially when the wind picked up and breezed through his hair and his coattails in the colors of the Galra Empire.  

Quite a picture, he knew. Zarkon and Honerva stood a few feet behind him, waiting for the royal family as he was. Authorized drones hovered around them in their predetermined locations after receiving clearance from Zarkon’s Captain of the Guard, Kolivan, who stood dutifully at his Emperor’s side with his ever present no-nonsense expression. The movement before the arrival of the Alteans was always a demanding one as he prepared the Empire for off-planet royalty, but the Captain never showed fatigue. There were also a few guards, a few servants, a lady in waiting to assist the women should they be in need.

Lotor stood alone, anxiously awaiting his intended.

Almost here, he thought with a small grin, but it instantly fell when he glanced back, spotting his parents and the scene behind him. He couldn’t seem too eager, too anxious in a way that would cause his father to become suspicious of him. Zarkon wanted a pure betrothal, wanted everything _by the book_ and unsullied by a young man’s wandering hands and need to mate. The Emperor had put deca-phoebs, his son’s entire _life_ , into this upcoming marriage, and knew the universe was watching. Watching especially, Lotor knew, the Empire, and how it handled the union. One shameful story could ruin this for his people, and damage his pride and reputation.

Zarkon would not appreciate it if he discovered that Lotor and Allura had already been intimate, before their wedding.

“It is different for you,” his father had once told him, once again explaining the rules he expected to be followed. “The universe is watching. Not only are you royalty, but you are the child of a Paladin. Regardless of what the masses may accept from others, _you_ are observed more closely. We will not give _anyone_ a scandal. Do you understand, Lotor?”

Consequences, Lotor remembered, staring at his father as Zarkon listened to something Kolivan was whispering to him. If Zarkon found out about the juniberry field, or any other trysts in the future, he would punish him for it. Obedience and integrity made a Prince. Disobedience and omissions called for punishment.

Victory or death.

The cold lessons of a father to his son.

Lotor’s eyes found his mother then. Honerva stood next to her husband silently, a small hand resting on his arm to steady her. Why she’d given up Altea for Zarkon was something Lotor would never understand, even with these new feelings for Allura. Honerva had never seemed too interested in the union of their kingdoms through the marriage of their children. Her own marriage to the Galra Emperor had not united them, and hadn’t brought them any closer when the alchemist had practically forsaken her home world for Daibazaal. Lotor didn’t know if she’d had any say in the matter when it came to his and Allura’s betrothal, but she’d never attempted to stop it.

A memory came to him then as he watched his mother. Lotor couldn’t have been more than twelve deca-phoebs old, and standing in the exact spot he was now as a man. But back then he’d tried to fight it. A boy so young had found no appeal in once again entertaining a girl he was destined to marry. Too many people watching, too many expectations, and his father had wanted him to do it, which only caused more rebellion.

“I don’t want to marry her,” Lotor had told Zarkon then as they waited for the Princess to land. “I don’t want to marry anybody.”

Zarkon only ignored his son, and tightened his grip on the boy’s wrist to keep him in place at his side. “Do as I say,” he warned.

Words to remember, words that would haunt him even in adulthood. Lotor had frowned, tugging his arm to try to escape his father’s grasp. It was too much, it was far too heavy a burden for him to bear for as long as he could remember. His heart quickened in his small chest, his jaw set firmly and starting to ache from the strain. He didn’t want this, he’d thought at the time. He didn’t want everyone to watch. He didn’t want everyone to know. He hadn’t said yes, not once. Not ever. With desperation, Lotor had looked up at his mother standing on the other side of him. She wasn’t looking at him, at her anxious child, only straight ahead and emotionless. And no matter how much he fought, he couldn’t grab her attention.

_Too much, it was too much_.

“Mother,” Lotor had said softly, his white hair messy from struggling with Zarkon. “Mother, _please_.”

Only a quick flick of her yellow eyes was a sign of acknowledgement. Characters in books and plays didn’t have the same relationship with their mothers as Lotor did with his, and he was kept away from other children to study their own, but the young boy took a chance when he reached up and grabbed her hand, squeezing tight.

Honerva’s eyes had widened some at the contact, her limbs stiffening at her sides from the desperate touch of her child. She moved automatically, not of her own free will. Staring down at him and his shiny blue eyes of the Galra that pleaded to her.

“I don’t want to,” he’d whispered up to her, shaking her hand just a bit. “Please don’t make me.”

Two different holds, two different relationships. On one side, his father gripped his wrist, keeping him in place so he could see to the future that had been decided for him for the sake of the Empire that had not accepted a half-blood heir. And on the other, a hasty reach for a mother who would not hold on, and never would as she allowed her son’s clear discomfort.

But this was the life she’d chosen over Altea. Honerva had wanted Zarkon, and Daibazaal that had come with him.

“Be good,” she said to him. The only motherly advice she could muster.

It was not enough. Lotor had stared at her, his heart shattering to pieces, before looking away and accepting his fate. Maybe other sons could rely on their mothers.

He learned that day that he could not rely on his.

And even as her son broke next to her, Honerva softly rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb. His skin had been so soft. She’d never noticed before.

She could remember a soft pang under her ribs when he pulled his hand away from hers, and never willingly touched her again.

It was different now, Lotor thought again as he came back to the present, turning away from the sight of his indifferent mother whose only true interest had ever been her husband and her scientific work. Not much may have changed, but his desire to stand here certainly had.

As it sped to the ground for landing, the Red Lion roared like a beast from the sky, announcing its arrival grandly in the way of King Alfor. Lotor felt the mighty vibrations under his burgundy boots, felt the punch of the roar as it crashed into him most welcomingly. Finally, he thought with a contented sigh as the great paws of the Red Lion touched ground. Finally, she’s here.

The Lion took a moment to settle, to cool down after such distant travels through deep space. The guards stood ready and the universe watched as the beast leaned down in a bow, setting its jaw on the landing zone and opening for the royal family. King Alfor and Queen Melenor exited first, his red and white broadsword at his side and her dress fluttering over her feet as they approached him. Lotor was pleased to see them, but his eyes searched for the Altean he wanted. The Queen got to him first.

Lotor tensed and grunted a little when she instantly pulled him down into a tight hug.

“Oh, look at you. Look at him, Alfor,” she said sweetly, not seeming to mind that she’d just yanked the Prince of the Galra down to her level. She then stepped back, took his face in her hands. “Prince Lotor, you get more handsome every time I see you. Just look at him, Alfor.”

“Yes, I see him, dearest,” the King replied with a big grin as he clapped his hand on Lotor’s back in greeting. “She used to say I was the handsome one. But she’s right,” Alfor agreed, glancing over the Prince and nodding in approval. “We chose well for our girl. You’re filling out that armor quite satisfactorily.”

“And you’ve gotten taller,” the Queen added, her eyes beaming like her pink Altean markings Allura had inherited. “We’ve read the Galra continue to grow a bit even in adulthood. Our household has been studying up on your history and biology as preparation for the wedding, and future additions to our big family.”

Lotor froze. He had absolutely no idea where he was. Had someone drugged him when he wasn’t aware? The King and Queen, while always friendly, had never greeted him this… _warmly_ before, or outwardly mentioned grandchildren. But as the Queen glowed in happiness right before his eyes, he realized he just couldn’t bear it if her light waned.

Though he’d never been given such affections and didn’t know how to properly respond, Lotor did his very best to keep them both bright.

“Ah, that is… very pleasing to hear, your majesty.”

“So respectful. Another admirable trait,” she told him, softly patting his cheek and feeling a touch of sympathy for this young man who didn’t know how to act around proud parental figures. Melenor had made it a goal of hers to give the Prince a bit of warmth now that he was so suddenly entranced by her beautiful daughter. “Look at him. So handsome. Such a _prince_.”

“She will go on and on,” Alfor told him with a playful roll of his eyes before glancing behind Lotor. “Is that Kolivan? My good friend! Please entertain my wife,” he said to the Prince before making his way to Zarkon and Honerva with a swish of his cape.

Witnessing his obvious confusion and allowing it, Melenor added to it when she took Lotor’s claws in her delicate hands. She would have that big family, and Lotor would feel a part of it even if she had to fight him herself. “Lotor, you must know that if it were my decision alone, you would visit Altea as often as you would like.”

He forced his eyes back up to hers so he wasn’t staring at their joined hands. The entire time, the Queen held on firmly. “Yes, I understand,” he replied, thinking his answer dumb and immature when the desire to do just that was evident in his voice. The original agreement called for one movement of interaction a deca-phoeb before the wedding, with the very small exceptions of occasional missives and a varga or two if Voltron brought their fathers together. Those times were frustratingly rare.

“You are always welcome in my home. It does not matter how old either of us get, and it does not matter how long you’ve been married to my daughter. I don’t even care when you take up the crown as Emperor. I am a loyal mother. You should become familiar with that now.”

 A loyal mother, he mused, trying not to swallow with uncertainty, trying not to frown in envy he didn’t really understand. This is what Allura had her entire life. This is what he hadn’t been able to observe, and question as a boy. “Thank you, my Queen. I will remember that.”

She gave him a tender smile. “She’s taking a _gallingly_ long time, but Allura is here, I assure you. Coran is helping her find her shoes. The Red Lion’s movement is lively, and she tends to get comfortable with a tablet on long journeys and kicks them off.”

Lotor nodded. “As one does in the right arm of Voltron.”

“Precious,” Melenor fussed, squeezing his hands. “You are a delight, Prince Lotor. A handsome delight. Well now, I must go say hello to your mother. Be patient. Coran always wants my girl to look her very best.” Her palm gently touched his cheek, causing him to stiffen again from the foreign gesture before she breezed off to Honerva.

Was he blushing? Ancients, please don’t let him be blushing. Lotor distracted himself by glancing back up at the Red Lion, placing his arms behind his back and waiting patiently for his betrothed. It would be rude to go to the Lion without permission to board it from the King. His own father was frighteningly protective of the Black Lion, and it could be possible Alfor was the same way with his. Behind him, he could hear the greetings, spared one quick look over his shoulder and delightfully witnessed Alfor wrapping his arms around a stiff Kolivan who did not return the gesture, but it didn’t stop the King from giving his affections either.

Altea would be good for Daibazaal, though apparently it would take some time, and even a fight or two of apprehension.

_So different._

His eyes found the Lion’s mouth again. And it was just in time to see a curly silver haired head peek around the corner.

_Seeing_ her face hit him like the mighty blast of an ion cannon.

From inside the Red Lion of Voltron, Princess Allura smiled big enough to reach her illuminating eyes as they locked right onto him, full of happiness and excitement and _longing_. She took a step forward, stopped immediately in hesitation as she looked at something deeper within the Lion, something taking her attention momentarily. She didn’t give it much, and waved an impatient hand at who he assumed to be Coran keeping her from exiting.

She grabbed the long skirts of her dress and skipped out of the Lion before jogging out to him, her glorious hair billowing behind her and her focused eyes on her destination. On him.

She hadn’t waited to find her shoes. Allura ran to him barefoot, and didn’t seem to care at all.

Lotor didn’t know what emotion to focus on, to _feel_ with his entire being. The elation of seeing her again, the anticipation of spending the whole movement with her hardly interrupted, the wonderment of her beauty, or the incredible _yearning_ to grab her, to yank her close and kiss her mouth and feel her body.

So much to experience from the sight of one woman.

The worst of it was that he had to keep it all contained with his father right behind him, watching with scrutinizing eyes that were waiting patiently for _something_ that would be displeasing to the Empire.

Allura had nothing holding her back. She was completely free.

She stopped right in front of him, her eyes never leaving his and her skirts dropping from her hands as she greedily took in the sight of him. Her skirts and her sleeves were the color of her eyes, the bodice bright white and shimmering like a pearl from the ocean. She could be wearing the garb of the servants and still look like a princess.

_I think, truly, that you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen_.

Lotor desperately wanted to give her those exact words again. The truest words he’d ever spoken.

“Prince Lotor,” she said softly, feeling the need to bow politely – the drones were still recording them – but she couldn’t seem to manage it.

“Princess Allura.” Lotor was more aware of the eyes around them, more suspicious of what the drones and their parents were seeing. He kept his form straight and respectful. His great urge, though, was to wrap her up in his arms and finally be at ease again. “I know this is the first time I’ve greeted you here properly, but I shall make up for lost opportunities now. My planet welcomes you and your family and—”

“I missed you.”

Another blast of the cannon, right into his chest.

If only her mother had made the rules of their courtship. Lotor knew he would never leave Altea, or Allura, if he could.

Could the drones hear them from so far away? Could their families? He couldn’t think of them now. The universe was watching, as they had been their entire lives, but all he could feel now was her. Like a beautiful storm, she crashed into him and consumed all he was.

“Allura,” he said softly, even leaning his head down, as if the gesture could give them more privacy. “My princess. I’ve not stopped thinking of you since Altea.”

She beamed up at him, never minding the great presence behind him he was so uneasy around. Her fingers flexed at her sides, her body a bit squirmy as if she wanted to make a move, but was still questioning if she should go with it. Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, her eyes finding his mouth.

“May I kiss you?” she whispered.

With that one soft question, Lotor was transported back to the juniberry field, under Altea’s shiny moon with purple flowers surrounding them like a protective barrier and finally allowing them to be themselves without judging eyes. He wanted to go back to that night a deca-phoeb ago, to lie with her in the field again, right after he’d asked her that very same question as she’d snuggled her way up against him. He wanted that night he’d first touched her. He wanted her underneath him with her silver hair and pink skirts spread out on the grass. He wanted to repeat it all.

But he couldn’t, he thought with a small frown, an expression she instantly spotted and took as a refusal, one she _must_ know he regretted. She couldn’t kiss him. Not here, not like this.

Not with Zarkon watching, and ready to punish him for breaking the rules.

Be good, his mother had once told him. He had to be good for Allura.

“I’m sorry,” he answered, barely a whisper.

She brushed it off with a sympathetic grin. “Later,” she told him, then took her dress in one hand, the other reaching for his arm. “Shall we make for the palace?”

“Princess! Your shoes!”

The two looked to the Red Lion, saw Coran scrambling out of the mouth and on his way to meet them. Huffing, he quickly remembered himself and bowed respectfully to Lotor before turning to Allura.

“Can’t forget these for your big date night.”

She took them from him, her cheeks flushing a little from her very un-royal-like behavior of scurrying without proper footwear on a sandy and breezy planet while the universe watched. She’d completely forgotten her bare, and possibly now dirty feet. “Thank you,” she muttered.

“Let me help you get them back on. Your grandmother made these, and I will _not_ be the one to tell her the Galra didn’t see her creations because you fled the Lion with nothing on your toes. Well… she made them for you, really,” Coran said to Lotor.

The Prince blinked at him. “For me?” 

“Coran,” Allura hissed through clenched teeth.

“Yes, sir, Prince Lotor. Allura’s grandmother and I coordinate the Princess’s outfits just so for these meetups, since our girl became a woman. She always tells me before I leave, Coran, she says, _knock that boy’s boots off_. Last deca-phoeb’s fashions seemed to be a hit, eh?”

This time they both blushed.

“Coran!” King Alfor called, waving him over to join some topic of discussion amongst the parents.

Allura practically shoved him away, sparing herself more embarrassment. Her parents never flustered her, but for some reason, the combination of Coran and her grandmother teaming up made her cheeks burn under the pink crescents. “Father needs you.”

“But, Princess, your shoes and your dress—”

“I’ve got it,” she squeaked, then shook her head as Coran scurried off to Alfor. With her shoes in one hand, she started lifting her dress with the other to expose her bare feet. “My grandmother enjoys fashion and art,” she explained to Lotor, trying not to topple as she held her dress and tried to slide her sandals on under it. “Both of them do. It is always… mildly humiliating when they get together and plan. Quite dramatic, I would say.”

“Let me help you,” Lotor said, taking her shoes before kneeling down. He offered her one of his big claws. “To steady yourself.”

Allura’s brows quirked a bit as she stared down at him, one corner of her mouth turning up as her hand slid into his. He went to work on her shoes, his long fingers curling around her own to keep her from falling over as she lifted a foot for him, her other hand holding up her dress so he could see.

To the drones, it would only look like a gentleman assisting a lady with her shoes. A sweet act a future husband would do for his wife. A prince helping a princess.

Lotor tried to keep his eyes on her sandals and getting them on her feet, and _not_ drinking in the sight of the skin of her legs, or the swirls and curves of some pink Altean markings. Like the one on top of her delicate foot, that attached to a smooth ankle, leading up to a delectable calf—

He shut his eyes for a moment, forced himself to calm down. Quickly, he slipped her sandal on her foot, waited for her to lift the other for him.

It creeped up on him then, that instinct that flared to life when the shift made some of her scent float up to him with the rustling of her skirts. That need, that Galra urge that turned his eyes and made his fangs sharpen and his claws aching to sink into female flesh. He stared at her leg after securing her shoe, his fingers wandering from the strap of a sandal and to her heel, up a little bit and onto her calf. He felt her hand in his own squeeze some, slowly moved his eyes up to hers.

The others couldn’t see. His back was hiding it. Just a little touch, just a little taste.

_The Galra know the scent of their mate._

His eyes flashed, pupils shrinking into slits, sharp claws dragging against her skin as he moved his hand up her leg, feeling that skin shudder from his touch. Her teeth bit her lip again. He wanted to replace hers with his own. He could bite her. Just a quick nip.

“Lotor,” Allura whispered down to him, eyes a little worried that he would give himself away.

It brought him back, back where he needed to be and not the juniberry field with his betrothed’s legs wrapped around his waist and a moan on her lips.

Lotor shook his head, closed his eyes until he knew they were how they should be. He needed to play this game well around his father, and if he succeeded, he could have Allura somewhere they wouldn’t be bothered, like how she did for him on Altea. He stood, waited for her to smooth her skirts down before he would guide her away.

“Later,” she promised softly yet again before taking his arm. “Show me Daibazaal.”

 

* * *

 

 

Last deca-phoeb, as he sat in the juniberry field marveling at Altea’s magnificence, Lotor had felt slightly uneasy when he thought of showing Allura his home world himself, without her and her family sitting around the palace waiting for someone to round him up after he would escape them. He wanted to be with her now, would use every tick to his advantage so he could simply be around her, breathing in the essence of Altea she seemed to always carry with her.

When they married, the kingdoms of Altea and Daibazaal would be united. And when they took up their crowns as the Emperor and his Queen, the two planets would be governed under one name. Their name, their banner, their colors. Emperor Lotor and Queen Allura, the light of their bloodline continuing to shine at Kral Zera.

Lotor’s uneasiness came from his uncertainty that he could ever make Allura feel for his home planet the way he felt for hers.

Daibazaal was unlike Altea, Lotor thought again. Its red and gray soil was not lush green fields of flowers and its rocky terrain was not mountains in constant bloom. The breeze was always warm and drying, sometimes carrying copious amounts of that red and gray dirt, and their sun never brought bright blue skies, but a continuous state of red and purple sunset. There were no oceans here like on Altea, hardly any foliage that couldn’t survive in the harsher environment, and its very presence glorified military power. Every child would find a weapon best suited for them and learn it, master it, be it sword, rifle, chain, or even fist. The Emperor had his soldiers, but the entirety of Daibazaal was his powerful army. Altea was not weak by any means. An Altean child was just as skilled on the training deck as their mothers and fathers. Allura herself was a remarkable warrior.

But _the way_ of their planets was not the same. Here on Daibazaal, battle prowess was sculpted and harnessed to create a mighty Galra who would please the Emperor.

How could he possibly make her feel at home in such a place?

But to his surprise, Allura did not study his planet with a judging and reconsidering eye. Instead, she was incredibly eager to learn and to learn everything with answers to her never-ending questions. She wanted to know the seasons, how those seasons affected the Galra’s various trades, how they farmed, how they lived. The lack of oceans and green grass and blue skies didn’t deter her. Daibazaal was beautiful, like how Altea was beautiful. It was just a different kind in a different world, and her willingness to learn the Galra way charmed him. It eased his heart in knowing she could be happy with his people as she led them alongside her own.

But tonight would be different. Tonight they would not dine in the dining hall with his father at the head of the table, unseen musicians playing the Emperor’s favorite tunes as they ate and conversed and laughed, a fellowship of future family that would only get bigger.

Tonight the Altean royal family would be welcomed to Daibazaal’s Gladiator Pits, and witness that Galra battle prowess with their own eyes.

Dressed in his father’s colors, Lotor wore fine garments of mostly silver, with only a hint of red in the half cape hanging from his shoulders. His hair had been braided back, longer now and reaching the middle of his shoulder blades. His father still disapproved of the length but had yet to force him to cut it. He made his way through the halls of the palace, heading for Allura’s chambers so he could retrieve her for the fights and the dinner they would all have as battle waged below them. He signaled for her, waited outside her door.

“What do you think?” she asked moments later, twirling in her dress for him.

She’d chosen the Galra red for tonight, his father’s color and the same one he wore himself. Lotor usually didn’t care for the shade after being forced to wear it his entire life for Zarkon, but on Allura, he didn’t seem to feel that familiar resentment. Her skirts were long and flowy, the waist cinching in on her curves and the collar reaching all the way up, hooking around her neck. Only the skin of her shoulders and arms were bare, and somehow the pink of her markings didn’t clash with the red of her dress. Her silver hair was left down, a glorious tumble around her body.

Somehow she could even steal his breath in the colors of Zarkon.

“I love it,” he told her, gently taking her hand and rubbing his thumb over the back of it. “You’re gorgeous, my princess.”

“Thank you. I wanted something to show the Galra that I honor their Emperor. My father told me there were minor riots amongst some when Zarkon married an Altean. I don’t wish to repeat that history.”

“We’ve been betrothed our entire lives, and you’ve visited Daibazaal every other deca-phoeb since infancy. If there have been any riots because of the union, my father has made examples out of them. You have nothing to prove.”

She lifted a shoulder. “Still. They will one day be my people too. I want to show my loyalty.”

He desperately wanted to kiss her then, but their parents – his father – were waiting for them.

The Colosseum was filled with thunderous applause and bellowing, each and every Galra eager to watch the fights, and it only intensified with the arrival of their Emperor and the rest of the royals. Zarkon’s private booths were made ready for him and his guests of honor where they would also take their dinner, an area not as crowded as the rest of the rows and given a immaculate view of the fights below. The uproar of spectators rumbled under their feet and the clash of swords rang in their heads as the fights commenced.

Allura sat between Lotor and Coran, their parents all together in the row behind them. She leaned over to him while keeping her eyes on the frenzied gladiators. “They fight for… enjoyment?”

“Some, yes. Some will also fight as a reckoning, for the glory of it. Most, though, fight as an… audition, of sorts.”

“Audition?”

“This is the best and quickest way to advance in rank in our society. Skill and victory is expected on the battlefield. The only other option is death. Therefore, it is quite hard to show commanders and generals your personal abilities if they’re expecting the fleet to move as one, and always be victorious. Here, however,” Lotor explained as one gladiator threw their sword like a spear, “a Galra has the chance to show exactly what they’re made of as an individual. And tonight is an exceptionally important night for some to do exactly that, as their Emperor and his heir are watching, and can pluck them from poverty or a lowly status.”

A brutal way to advance, Allura thought, spotting some Galra in the crowds shaking their fists and spitting curses happily. “They are given a promotion just from winning a fight here?”

He gave a nod, his eyes finding the unfaltering muscled body standing near his father. “That is exactly how Kolivan rose in the ranks. He won his fights quite impressively and only fought when Zarkon would see him. The timing was uncanny. I’ve always suspected he’s had spies within the court,” Lotor added with a small grin. “His planning ultimately worked in his favor. Zarkon noticed him, and now he guards our family. There are societies out in the universe that call the way dishonorable, or a cheap way to progress. They liken it to instant stardom, but it has been this way in the Empire for centuries. Kolivan knew what he wanted for his life, and he made it happen in the only way he could. And I must say there is no solider more honorable than him.”

Allura would have to agree. But still. “There’s no such thing as seniority within the ranks?”

“Oh yes, there is. But the more a Galra increases in prestige, the less likely he or she is to be challenged here. At some point, they are left unopposed, and the only challenge they take on is when they’re called to the Kral Zera. But that opportunity is incredibly rare.”

The Colosseum suddenly boomed in a thousand hollering voices when an opponent took the other out with one mighty sucker punch under the chin, and it made Allura jump. Lotor, however, hadn’t flinched at all. “What is the Kral Zera?”

He looked down at her. “Your mother mentioned to me you were all studying Galra customs.”

She gave a shy grin. “We have been. But she has been more interested in your biology than the customs. She is a doctor, after all. The development of the Galra from infancy to adulthood, and their compatibility with our own race, has kept her occupied.” She laughed softly at his slightly embarrassed face. Of course there would be nothing to worry about when it came to compatibility and conception. If Zarkon and Honerva could make a child as full-bloods, then it would be no problem for Lotor and Allura. “So, the Kral Zera?”

It was horrendously loud in the Colosseum, or at least too loud for him to talk with her the way he’d like, which would be alone. An idea came to him then. Lotor took her hand, stood and guided her up too. Immediately he looked to Zarkon. “The Princess would like to see the Tribute Hall.”

“Good idea,” Queen Melenor chirped, smiling brightly and already waving them off.

She was not the one to convince when surrounded by the Empire. Lotor stared into Zarkon’s unconvinced eyes. “She’s asking about our history. I thought it better to show her documentation. She wants to show loyalty to the Galra.”

The Emperor was quiet, and Lotor spotted his gaze drifting down to their joined hands, which Lotor then slowly eased behind his back. When his searching eyes reached his son’s again, they were full of warning and the command to behave. “Very well.”

Lotor gave a small respectful bow to his father. “Thank you.”

The muffled boom of the Colosseum was left behind them as they exited it, her dress and his half cape blowing in the dry breeze and their hands firmly clasped. The Tribute Hall was not far from the Pits, just a short walk down windy concrete paths. Some Galra showing up late to the fights acknowledged the royals, especially their own Prince, with respect. When they finally reached the great Hall, the guard on duty bowed.

“Prince Lotor. Vrepit sa.”

Lotor breezed past him with Allura, telling him, “No disturbances.”

“Yes, sir.”

The Tribute Hall was like a museum, full of holograms, older photographs, and even a few paintings, all with honoring tablets describing the history of the powerful and remembered Galra who’d battled in the Gladiator Pits. Allura spun around as she tried to see it all, not caring to hide her wonder since they were alone. And they would remain that way when Lotor shut the grand doors firmly for privacy.

“This is amazing,” Allura said, walking to the closest exhibit. “You really do honor the best gladiators, don’t you?”

“Yes. This Tribute Hall tells the histories of the Colosseum. The Kral Zera is not documented here, but you can imagine it would look similar.” He came to stand next to her, hands behind his back. It had been quite some time since he’d visited the Hall. Already he was feeling a bit of suffocation, but he wanted to be alone somewhere with her his father wouldn’t question. He ignored the tightening in his chest. “The Kral Zera is a generations old ceremony to crown a new Emperor.”

Allura looked up at him. “That… doesn’t make any sense. Aren’t you Zarkon’s heir?”

“Children are not mandatory to rule, neither is an Empress, or even an Emperor, if a female takes the crown. If that is the case, and an heir is not named before our leader’s death, then we’re called to the Kral Zera, where any Galra can fight to light a flame, signifying their reign over the Empire. Zarkon fought in the Kral Zera centuries ago, and won. Fortunately for him, he married and had a child. He named me his heir shortly after I was born, which means his flame will continue to burn unless I, or a future grandchild of his, neglect to name an heir before our death. If so, the Kral Zera will begin again, and a new flame will be lit.”

How different from Altea’s monarchy, Allura mused as they quietly inspected the different tributes to Galra gladiators of the past. But how easy, she also considered, for the Empire to fall helplessly into the wrong hands. They approached a lifelike hologram that was so obviously the Hall’s most revered memorial. It was a scene from the grounds of the Pits, a rather large and terrifying opponent lying at the victor’s feet.

Looking to him, Allura saw Lotor’s gaze not on the warrior, but in the crowd pictured in the hologram as well.

“Is that Zarkon?” she asked.

“Yes.” Lotor moved his eyes away, inspected instead the image of his much younger father. “This event happened only a handful of deca-phoebs before I was born.”

“The Emperor must fight too?”

“This is not the average night in the Pits. As you know, when my father announced he would take an Altean as his Empress, there was a bit of an uproar. Many a Galran female of high esteem were outraged by his decision, and together, the people called for _Tala-shock_. Zarkon had no choice but to participate.”

Allura’s eyes found the unmistakable blood dripping from the sword held in Zarkon’s hand, frozen in time in a hologram. “Tala-shock,” she repeated softly.

“It roughly translates to _the devotion duel_. It was an older Galran tradition that had died in time, one only the early generations upheld. Back then, if the Emperor or the Empress wanted to take a blood mate, he or she would have to battle for them, to prove their everlasting fidelity and the potential blood mate’s worth to the Empire. Because my mother was Altean, the people wanted Tala-shock. They were unconvinced she was worthy as Empress, so Zarkon fought for her in front of the entire Empire.”

Honerva had left Altea and her people for Zarkon, and had never looked back. Zarkon had fought in an ancient tradition to calm the rioting of the Galra, a brutal fight that could’ve killed him. He could’ve kept Honerva as a consort, without the ties of marriage. Instead, he’d lifted his sword without a thought, and won the right to marry her as he’d won the crown at Kral Zera. The hologram also showed Honerva in the crowds, looking down at her victorious groom as Zarkon gazed back up at her from the middle of the Pits.

To Lotor, it felt like a memorial dedicated to strangers. Strangers he would never understand.

“It was the first Tala-shock in centuries. It is still, more or less, outdated.”

The way they’d fought for each other didn’t match the coldness he knew. Lotor quickly moved on, causing Allura to hastily follow.

“I’m not sure if that is romantic or completely dangerous and foolish,” she commented.

“The entire concept of the Gladiator Pits is completely dangerous and foolish.”

She heard some iciness in his voice, and reached out for his arm to try to warm him. “You don’t approve of these fights?”

Documentation of the Pits surrounded him, little reminders of what he’d had to face without his consent. The tightness in his chest would be constant until he left the Tribute Hall. “If I had my way, Allura,” he began softly, “the Pits would be the first to go once I’m crowned.”

He wasn’t looking at her, but she kept her eyes on his anyway, her hand wrapped around his elbow. There was sadness here, a realization she wasn’t familiar with yet. “But… you can do exactly that. Can’t you?”

“No,” he answered, leading her to the right wall of the Hall just to move, to not stay stagnant so the suffocation could intensify. “Those fights have been part of our history since the Empire was founded, since our first Emperor to light the flame. The Colosseum brings the Galra together and gives them pleasure. I could not eradicate the Pits even if I tried. There would be anarchy, and I am not a tyrant.”

This wasn’t simply wanting an activity so dangerous and brutal to stop, Allura realized. This was a regret built from experience, of knowing exactly what it was like. And just as she was about to ask him if Zarkon ever forced him to fight, her blue eyes flicked up to the great photograph they now stood in front of.

It showed Lotor fighting in the Pits, blood in his white hair and a sword clenched tight in his claws.

And fierce determination in his yellowblue eyes.

Allura knew there was something between Zarkon and Lotor that never had and never would exist between her father and herself. She’d worried about creating strife between them last deca-phoeb in the juniberry field, when she had a sinking feeling that Zarkon would not approve of them coupling for the first time. That _something_ between father and son was an issue she didn’t know how to help. Something she could not relate to in the slightest.

It hurt her heart.

“Lotor,” she murmured, placing her cheek on his upper arm as she studied her betrothed in the image; his battle stance, his wounds, his fierce presence she could _feel_ from a single picture. “We will bring change, you and I. I promise.”

One of her hands wandered down to his own. Lotor laced their fingers together and held on tight.

The suffocation seemed to ease.

Allura’s eyes moved to his opponent in the picture. She blinked, her curiosity incredibly piqued. “Is that a woman you’re fighting?”

“Yes.”

The sudden great admiration she heard in his voice caused her to look up at his now grinning face, his eyes full of pride as they settled on the warrior woman. His face was bright, as if a star had formed under it and lit up his features. He’d not made such an expression for Zarkon’s hologram victory or his own likeness in the same image.

“Her name is Acxa,” Lotor told her. “I have always been undefeated in the Pits. My father and the Empire expect it of their Prince. But she is the only one of my challengers to end our fight in a draw.”

Allura studied her closely. She wore what appeared to be broken armor, large pieces hanging off her slender, but also muscled body. Battered armor on strong arms, stronger legs, her long blue hair hanging around her sweaty and dirty and bloody face, chopped as if she’d cut it herself. She held a bo staff in one hand, intense eyes focused on her Prince, eyes that looked similar to Lotor’s, and both sets full of hunger for victory. Never had Allura seen two fighters so evenly matched.

She was about to ask if she was Galra, but then focused on another interesting feature.

“Are those horns?”

They were nestled in the woman’s messy hair, growing from the sides and out from the back of her head. The top of one was broken, the other sharp and capable of becoming a weapon on its own.

“Yes,” Lotor answered with a nod. “Acxa’s lineage comes from a planet where their dominant species all have them, all of them very large and very powerful. And very stubborn. Deca-phoebs ago, my father sent a fleet to evacuate them when their planet was dying, to hopefully bring such brute power into the Empire. Unfortunately, they refused to leave or accept help from Voltron, and died out. Her mother, however, was Galra and part of the fleet sent to rescue them. She had a night with one of the locals and returned to Daibazaal with child. Acxa is half Galra.”

Like you, Allura thought, listening to the obvious change of tone in his voice. Another thing she would not be able to relate to, but this woman could, and Lotor was so obviously drawn to it. “You seem to like her.”

“She is an incredible woman, and an outstanding combatant. Her mother died when she was a girl. Acxa grew up with nothing and had to fight for GAC in alley matches to feed herself, and her way of combat is completely self-taught so she could protect herself. I first met her here, in the Pits as my opponent. Her horns had grown out uncomfortably and her armor was in shambles, but it was still a draw.”

“What happened to her?”

_Don’t forget about me_ , Acxa had said to him that day, breathless and bleeding and limping. They both were. He’d looked into her eyes that matched his own, his sword heavy, his ribs aching from her bo staff, his shoulder dislocated. _Oh I won’t_ , he’d replied with a knowing grin.

It was the only fight in the Pits he’d enjoyed.

“She had no education,” Lotor explained. “She’s very smart, but in order to join my personal guard, she needs proper schooling, something legitimate. I’m seeing to all of it at the moment, paying for all of it. She now has the best educators, livable quarters, and employment waiting for her at the end. It won’t be long till I’m able to choose my own guard, my own colors, and start building my own ships. Acxa will be my first general when she returns from her schooling.”

A woman who knew the ways of the Galra perfectly because she was half Galra, like her future husband. A woman who’d fought her undefeated betrothed in battle and had tied with him, impressed him with her skill. A woman who obviously knew what the Kral Zera and Tala-shock were, important Galra histories Allura was only learning of now with her intended. And all she’d done with her family in the last deca-phoeb was figure out if she would have trouble conceiving with him or not.

Allura had never been one to feel inferior or inflict it on others. She wanted to build up, not tear down or sabotage herself. But as she stared at this Acxa Lotor held such great admiration for, enough to change her life completely after one fight, Allura wondered if maybe this woman would be a far better choice for Empress.

The thought squeezed in her chest.

“Allura.”

“Hmm?” Her head whipped up, and she spotted him staring down at her. “I was just… She’s very amazing. Perhaps those fights are good for something, after all. You seem very…” What was the correct word? It was on the tip of her tongue. “Besotted?”

That was definitely not the correct word.

Lotor lifted a brow. “Besotted.”

“Yes. I mean, no. I mean…” She took a breath to steady herself. “I’m sure the Empire would not object to her.”

“Object to her? Allura.” Lotor faced her, stared at her expression with narrowed eyes. Her brows were quirked and she was having a hard time looking at him and there was a blush on her cheeks that looked like embarrassed shame. “Do you feel threatened by her?”

“Of course not!” she squeaked, and it was the truth. Allura wasn’t a catty woman, and could hold her own in a fight like any strong warrior. But she was not a horned half-Galra orphan who’d taught herself everything she knew before one life-altering night in a fight with a Prince. There were parts of Lotor’s life she couldn’t understand, but her future husband and Acxa had so many important traits in common. “My father says there are soulmates of all kinds.”

“And you think Acxa is my soulmate?”

“Yes. Well, platonically. I think?” she asked, hopeful eyes now meeting his.

What a strange situation to be in, Lotor mused as he watched her frown. “You’ve not forgotten that you are the first woman I’ve mated with? Only a deca-phoeb ago?”

“A deca-phoeb is a long time in between… nights such as those. And we aren’t married yet so if you wanted to mate with someone el—”

“Allura.”

He could tell she was cursing herself as he inspected her scoff. She was flustered and unsure, and didn’t know how to handle the predicament she’d suddenly found herself in. Everyone around her constantly told her she was beautiful and smart and strong, and she absolutely was. She should hear it every day after the marvelous way she performed her duties as an intelligent and loyal princess. But like this, she was not in familiar territory.

Lotor then realized that she was just as enamored with him as he was with her.

Infatuation was one thing for her to feel, a fleeting feeling that could vanish at any moment. Something deeper was an experience she wasn’t familiar with, until he’d stopped running from her and their obligation to their kingdoms.

It seemed their reunion last deca-phoeb had changed them both in different ways.

“You should know,” he began, reaching down for her hands that had fisted at her sides, “that I’ve never had the desire to mate with a woman before last deca-phoeb. Not truly, which is why I hadn’t. But when I saw you on Altea, you unknowingly snatched me up in a mighty grip, and I have been unable and _unwilling_ to escape it.” He squeezed her hands, waited for the frown to lift. It did with her soft smile. “I don’t want to mate with anyone but you, my princess.”

It made her light up, though the frown was still a threat to his charming words. “But, Lotor, it’s… It’s so long. If you ever find yourself wanting then you have my permission to—”

“I’ve discovered something,” he interrupted again. “Allow me to tell you about it.”

“Oh…” She sighed. “Okay.”

Lotor used his grip on her hands to guide her, to gently maneuver her so her back faced a bare patch of wall within the clutter of monuments and memorials. He also knew that at this angle, in this spot, no one would be able to see them if someone should walk in. “My entire life, I’ve avoided romantic entanglements. My hand in marriage was given to you, and it was required that I respect it. But because I was intended for you with no way out, the mere thought of… _juggling_ another woman, even something innocent and fleeting when I was younger, was a task I was vastly uninterested in. Our entire family knows how apprehensive I was to our betrothal.”

Allura grinned and laughed softly. _Our entire family_ , she thought As if they were already married. “Until the last time.”

“Until the last time,” he echoed, rubbing her hands between his fingers as if he’d snatched a lock of her soft hair. “Like I said. I’ve never wanted a woman the way I desperately wanted you on Altea. We don’t completely understand how it happens, but if you want to learn about our biology then you should know that the Galra, though some may have multiple partners in their lifetime, know immediately at some unpredictable moment in time when their blood mate is near. We know their scent, we know their taste and their touch. And that knowledge, that _desire_ , took me completely on Altea when I saw you.”

Her back was suddenly against the wall now, her heartbeat starting to pick up in her chest as Lotor loomed over her, his claws around her wrists. What he’d felt one deca-phoeb ago was a very similar description of her father’s telling of when Zarkon had first looked at Honerva.

A Galra’s blood mate seemed to break even the barriers of race. Sometimes it was instant, and sometimes it took a little longer.

“And, Allura,” Lotor continued, his voice deep and raspy, his eyes darkening as he lifted her wrists, and placed them over her head against the wall. She went willingly, even shivered a little. “The fascinating bit of information I’ve discovered is that the desire seems to return only when it concerns you. No one else.”

She swallowed when his hands, and the sharp tip of his claws, ran down her arms, and she shivered yet again when he stepped closer so his mouth could hover right over hers. Her eyelids lowered, her lips parting in case he would kiss her. The touch of his hands on the bare skin of her arms was somehow just as pleasurable as if he’d touched a more intimate area, and suddenly she was desperate for a touch there too.

“You feel it now?” she asked in a whisper.

“Yes.” She’d mentioned on Altea that mating with him in the juniberry field had been something she’d wanted, that she’d gone there with the intention of seducing him if he’d been responsive. It was rewarding to see her tremble now, especially when his claws drifted lightly over her breasts, over the pretty red dress. She sucked in a breath. “I thought perhaps I could touch you the way I wanted to when I was assisting with your shoes. When some of your dress was up and my hands were under it.”

“Lotor,” she breathed, reaching for his shoulders so she could squeeze something when his hands trailed over her waist and hips. “I’ve been waiting. Kiss me.”

He did, her mouth already opening against his, his own ready to give her whatever she would demand. They’d had one night with stolen kisses, secret kisses, before having to be separated until now. She tasted just as good as he remembered, a taste he _knew_ because it was the only one he wanted. Her hand ran down his braid, fisted against his clothing as his own sharpening grip clawed at her dress below her hips. If he knew her taste then he definitely knew her smell, and he breathed in her desire coming from under her dress as he pressed his swelling cock against the front of her skirts.

After so long apart, it didn’t take much time to make them ready.

In between wet kisses, Lotor started hiking up her long red skirt, just the front so the back still fell behind her. With two fingers he reached between her legs for her cunt, desperate to feel her.

He couldn’t stop his reaction when he growled against her throat upon finding her without any panties on.

“I assumed I would have no need for underthings.” She held him close, sighed from his touch and pressed her breasts against his chest. “It seems I assumed right.”

“Allura.” He very gently pressed his fingers in deeper – careful of his claws – and sought out where she was hottest and wettest, right at her little hole he was desperate to sink inside once again. With those two fingers, he rubbed from her entrance up to her clit and back again, until she was practically purring like a Galra in heat against the wall. “I’m sorry I can’t have you in my bed. I wish I could.”

She pulled him in for another kiss, lifted a leg to press her thigh against him as her hips rocked against his hand. “You’re… very good at this,” she breathed against his mouth.

Her responses and her slick sliding down his fingers made him smile. “I’ve done some research during our separation.”

“Research?” she asked, then let out a moan when he focused his fingers on her clit. She couldn’t see, but just watching the way his arm moved under the skirts of her dress made it all the more thrilling.

“On how best to please you.”

“Lotor.” Allura then gasped when he pressed her against the wall, his other hand keeping her in place with a firm grip holding one of her breasts. Her hands were full of his red cape hanging from his shoulders, and she wished more than anything that she could unhook the clasp around her neck that held up the front of her dress so she could properly feel the flesh and claws of his hand. But in a room where anyone could easily walk him, the Prince reaching under her dress was scandalous enough.

With his intense and heated Galra eyes on her own, he watched her face closely as he wiggled his middle finger at her soaking hole before carefully pushing it inside her. The length of only one was enough to activate her sweet spots. “Do you like how that feels, Allura?”

“Yes. Oh yes,” she sighed, her head leaning against the wall and her hips moving around for more pleasure.

“Will you come for me?”

“ _Absolutely_ ,” she groaned, then whimpered when the sudden orgasm hit her as soon as his thumb found her clit. She panted, her muscles pulsing like a heartbeat around his finger and her chest heaving against his hold on her breast. Her eyes were closed as she caught her breath, trying not to sweat as she felt him remove himself from her, his other arm coming around her to hold her as her skirts fell. She used a few more ticks to calm down, then opened her glassy eyes just in time to see him pull his middle finger out of his mouth.

Her knees wobbled a bit from the sight.

His tongue licked over his sharpened fangs and those hungry Galra eyes were still locked right on her, ready to continue mating. Her orgasm before had been great – and what a different experience climaxing from someone else’s hand – but she instantly needed another one when she was full of him. Her hands reached for his belts and pants just as his started lifting her skirts again, just enough to pull his cock out and uncover her cunt so he could slide inside and fuck her in a room that constantly reminded him he was rarely given choices.

He’d made his choice on Altea in the juniberry field. He wasn’t allowed her have her this way, not before they were married, but taking her was everything he wanted. The only choice he could really make, though the threat of trouble was always near.  

_His blood mate_. He knew it the moment he saw her one deca-phoeb ago. He leaned forward to kiss her, stalled both their movements as he devoured her mouth…

They hadn’t heard the doors of the Tribute Hall open.

“Prince Lotor.”

The boom of a voice from the entrance made Lotor’s eyes widen. He instantly removed his mouth from Allura’s, signaled for her to be absolutely quiet. She hadn’t really unlatched any of his clothing and the call had already softened his cock because this interruption was obviously sent by his father. He lifted a hand, she gave a nod, their agreement unspoken.

From their unseen spot in the Hall, Lotor stepped out alone so Allura could compose herself.

Kolivan waited for him from the doors. He’d barely taken a step inside. Not a lowly servant or low ranking soldier sent to fetch him. His suspicious father had sent the Captain of the Guard.  

Lotor was used to putting on a performance for the Empire. He did so now, feigning aloofness. “Yes?”

“Your father is asking for you.” Kolivan didn’t move a muscle, and Lotor saw he wasn’t even inspecting the Hall for any evidence of trouble that would need to be reported to the Emperor. “If you haven’t mentioned it already, the Princess should know there are wash room facilities at the left corner. I’ll be waiting to escort you both.”

Kolivan then closed the doors behind him.

Allura walked out, her face flushed and her mouth breathing out a sigh of relief. “What incredible timing,” she murmured, taking Lotor’s arm when all the prince did was stare at the doors. “Will he tell Zarkon?”

He replayed it in his head. If it had been anyone else... “I don’t believe so. He wouldn’t have mentioned the wash rooms if he wanted… evidence.”

“I suppose I should clean up then.” Before she left for the facilities, Allura reached for his face so she could lightly kiss his cheek. “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”

Lotor tried really hard to believe it as he waited for her. In Allura’s world, everything truly was fine.

Not in his.

 

* * *

 

 

They made it back to the Colosseum, still thundering from excitement of the night’s rounds as Kolivan brought the two back to their parents. With a pretty smile on her face – and no longer smelling of sex - Allura instantly went into her mother’s open arms. The Queen kissed her daughter’s forehead, ran her hand down her hair as the two quietly muttered to each other and giggled. Alfor snuggled up to them to join the conversation. Coran must’ve gone to bed.

Lotor breezed past them and kept his face emotionless as he went to Zarkon. The Emperor stood, waiting for his son.

Again, he needed to remember the performance. Nothing was wrong, and he molded his face and posture to convey exactly that. They hadn’t been gone for very long and Kolivan hadn’t whispered anything to Zarkon. The Captain had gone right back to his post.

Lotor stopped, keeping some distance between them. “Father?”

“Come here.”

The abruptness of the command put him on edge, but he had no choice but to obey. Lotor neared him, Honerva giving them no attention from the other side of Zarkon. Once he was close enough, Zarkon leaned down, placing his face right in front of Lotor’s.

The glaring eyes of the Emperor were intense as they stared into his son’s.

It was easy to manipulate, Lotor knew, refusing to flinch back as Zarkon searched so close for something telling. The crowds fed off of each other, the guards were forced to obey, and his mother was too disinterested in her child to care about what he said to her. Manipulation was the only weapon available to him, at times. One he would one day master if he was to lead the Empire that tended to feel superior to even the half Galra.

But his father was his greatest opponent, and one who would never trust him, no matter the spectacular performance.

And when Lotor heard his father suck in one great and quiet breath to breathe him in, he knew there would be trouble. If the Emperor was looking for something, that something was always there for him to find.

_My father will smell you on me._

Last deca-phoeb, Zarkon hadn’t been given the chance.

He had it now.

“You disobeyed me,” Zarkon said darkly.

Lotor still didn’t flinch, didn’t swallow nervously or back away. He remained perfectly still.

“I told you,” Zarkon continued, keeping his angry voice quiet enough so the Altean royals wouldn’t hear, “that if I discover you were inappropriate with Alfor’s daughter, there would be consequences. It appears you didn’t believe me.”

“I haven’t damaged the betrothal,” Lotor told him softly, seeing no point in denial now. “As you can plainly see.”

“It doesn’t matter. You put the union in jeopardy because you couldn’t keep your claws off of the girl. I suspected deviant behavior on Altea, but I was forced to let it go. I will not turn a blind eye this time. You have threatened the Empire’s future, and that is unacceptable. Your people should _always_ come first, _not_ your desire to mate.”

Lotor knew that expression and the punishment behind it. Alone, he would accept it, but with Allura and her family here, he didn’t want them to see. Alfor knew their ways, but Allura was still learning. He didn’t want her to be shown something she wasn’t ready for, something she would be forced to witness in real time and not on a celebrated picture on the wall.

Like how brutal and blood thirsty the Galra could get, even as they came together for peace and unity.

“I won’t touch her again,” Lotor whispered desperately, and he meant it, no performance this time. Pleading was something he rarely did, and he needed his father to accept it. Just this once. “I won’t.”

“The damage is done, Lotor. You should have focused on patience, but you were very _impatient_ , now weren’t you?”

“Alfor isn’t angry. You think he doesn’t know, as you do? He still brought her to Daibazaal.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It _does_ ,” Lotor hissed, keeping his posture, keeping his pose as Allura snuggled with her loving family behind him. “That’s what you’re worried about, isn’t it? You want to see this marriage, this union, succeed, and that can’t happen if Alfor takes Allura away. Look at them, they’re happy. Listen to me, Father, you will _ruin_ this if you make me—”

“Hush,” Zarkon commanded, the simple yet intimidating word easing out through clenched fangs. He was not an unintelligent Emperor. He had not won the Kral Zera with a history of bad decisions and foolishness. His flame was still burning bright, and he knew how to keep it heated.

His son’s pleas and attempts at reasoning would not stop him.

He was always one with the Empire, and even when Zarkon lifted his arm, his hand in a halting motion out to the crowds, the Galra knew it. The entire Colosseum went silent, the gladiators lowering their weapons and stopping their battle. The eyes of the Empire were on their Emperor, waiting for his call. Ready to answer it, ready to serve.

Zarkon opened his mouth to roar one simple word.

“ _Tala-shock_.”

And when he placed that outstretched hand on top of Lotor’s head, the Galra erupted in shouts and applause and one great voice that bellowed, “Vrepit sa!”

Lotor only stared into his father’s eyes, once again defeated.

“If you feel you have the _right_ to your bride before she is your wife,” Zarkon said to him, his voice low and soft but as powerful and hot as his flame, “then perhaps you should fight for her. As I did for mine.”

_For Honerva._

As the Galra cheered, even clanking their weapons against their hard armor, those nearest the Emperor finally reacted. Kolivan remained straight and composed, though his frown deepened just a tad. Allura and her mother still held each other, the princess glancing around before looking to Lotor. Honerva was still, though her yellow eyes had drifted away in deep thought and her hands suddenly fisted on her lap.

With caution, Alfor stood.

“Zarkon,” the King began carefully, looking to his friend and fellow Paladin. He knew of Tala-shock and what it meant. He’d even been in this very building when Zarkon had fought in his own for an Altean Alfor was responsible for at the time. “I don’t understand. There’s… absolutely no need for this.”

“Lotor will fight for the princess.”

“Yes, I understand _that_ ,” Alfor said, looking momentarily to Allura’s confused face. “Tala-shock was only so that a Galra _may_ marry, and prove the worth of their mate. Lotor and Allura have been engaged their entire lives. What are you saying with this demand?”

“I assure you, Alfor, there is no implication here. My son’s hand is still for your daughter, and will certainly not be rescinded. We are bringing back old traditions simply for the sake of tradition, starting with the Prince.” Zarkon then set his hand on Lotor’s shoulder, squeezing it. “It will be a good time, for all of us. Lotor will fight for the princess, it is in his blood to do so. Presenting to her his skill in battle has been _long_ overdue, and now is the perfect time.”

Alfor studied Zarkon closely, as he had been for deca-phobs when it came to Lotor. His very limited attempts at soothing the prince from his father’s harsh nature were as quick and unseen as the wind, but Lotor was not his child. There was only so much he could do for him. But when Allura grasped his hand at his side and murmured worriedly “Father,” he knew had to try.

“We don’t ask this of him,” Alfor said, hoping Lotor would understand. “Have you forgotten your injuries after your Tala-shock that was _demanded_ by your own people, Zarkon? We don’t ask this of Lotor. We would never want him injured in Allura’s name.”

“Nonsense,” Zarkon argued with a light voice. Excitement of his own was buzzing through him, through Galra blood. Like father, like son. “Lotor has fought in the Pits countless times. Let’s show your mate what you’re made of, my boy.”

The Altean royals – King, Queen, and Princess – had nothing left. This would not happen on Altea, but Daibazaal was not theirs to command. Zarkon was the Emperor – and Lotor’s father - and while on his home world, they had no choice but to obey his wishes. They were powerless, and even threatening the betrothal would not work surrounded by the Galra who expected the union to succeed.

Alfor also knew his daughter and the way she’d always brightened up at the mention of Lotor, even long before the prince had come to care for her. Taking her away from him would not fix things between father and son.

Once they were married, Lotor would have more freedom.

Before he could lead Lotor away, a hand reached out and snatched Zarkon’s wrist. The Emperor looked down, his grin dropping when he saw Honerva staring at him from her seat.

“Zarkon,” she murmured, her eyes wide and unreadable. Her unpredictability was one of her traits he’d always greatly admired.

And so he waited, looking down at his wife, his Empress. The mother of his only child. Hers was the only voice who could truly stop him, and if she spoke up from concern for their son, he would release Lotor of this obligation, this punishment for disobedience.

But as the ticks passed, as Lotor stared at her too, something flustered within her.

Honerva let Zarkon’s wrist go, and turned her eyes back to the Pits, without objection.

Why, Lotor wanted to scream at her. _Why won’t you do this one thing for me?_

“Come,” Zarkon said, wrapping his arm around Lotor’s waist and pulling him away for his fight.

As he was led past her, Lotor caught Allura’s fretful eyes. He wasn’t even given time to soothe her, to give her a performance so he could brush that worry from her face. To make her believe, as Zarkon had said, that they would have a good time.

“Prepare the Prince,” Zarkon commanded to nearby servants. “Retrieve his armor and his sword.”

There was nothing else he could do for Allura but fight.

 

* * *

 

 

Below the Colosseum was where the gladiators would dress and ready for their fight. They would stretch their limbs, pull on their head gear, sharpen their weapons, and antagonize if the opportunity was there. It was separated by two halves; each side housing the other opponent so each fighter could enter the Pits on opposite sides, staring each other down and entertaining the crowd with more dramatics. Some gladiators below were even guarded and shackled, transferred from Daibazaal’s prison on good behavior and a chance to change their fate with impressive battle prowess.

It was full of snarling and cursing and spitting, little piles of blood and even a fang or two scattered along the ground from fight after fight.

Lotor knew the area well. He’d been down here enough times to know the smells and sounds and the great thunder of the Galra from above, waiting to see him face a full-blood.

His armor for the Pits was black and form fitting with the glowing magenta emblem of the Empire over his chest. He kept his hair in the braid – the fights tended to slice a few white locks off – and as he looked down at his boots, he wondered who it was his father had chosen as his opponent for Tala-shock. Someone incredibly worthwhile, someone _required_ to be difficult. Someone who held the value of his future marriage and future wife in the palm of their hand.  

This Tala-shock didn’t really mean anything; it was just fun and games and wouldn’t stop the union of Galra and Altean.

It was simply Lotor’s punishment. Be good, his mother had once told him.

Even when he tried, he was still sent to fight.

It was time. The other gladiators parted, their heads bowed so the Prince could make his way to the entrance to the Pits. Above them, the Galra in the Colosseum were chanting _Tala-shock_ over and over again, desperate for the old tradition that hadn’t been performed since before his birth. The Tala-shock took priority over the other scheduled fights, and Lotor was to enter his as soon as he was ready.

No choice, never a choice. Not here.

“Your sword, your highness.”

Lotor looked over at the servant, a long case in his arms open to present his preferred weapon. It was freshly sharpened, sparkling clean. Ready for blood. Without another thought, the prince grabbed its handle, pulled his blade from the case and made his way to the Pits and the crowds and his father.

And Allura.

_We don’t ask this of him_. Alfor had tried, but his efforts had been for nothing. On Daibazaal, Zarkon’s was the only voice, and he’d made his demand.

Lotor would do _anything_ for Allura. His own little piece of Altea. The one happiness.

He entered the Pits, found his spot where he would wait for his opponent as he stretched his arms with the weight of his sword. He was used to this particular spot, a place where the Galra could watch him and scream and shout as he swung his sword and dodged mighty blows that sometimes left him bloody and aching. He learned how to fight here, learned how far he could push himself here, needed his first stitches here. He’d met Acxa here, and had changed her life.

“ _Tala-shock. Tala-shock. Tala-shock_.”

And here he would fight for his love. _The devotion duel_.

His opponent entered the grounds, wearing the gear given to prisoners lucky to leave their cell and a short sword gripped in hand, jagged on the edges. A large Galra, Lotor saw as his foe stomped further into the Pits with heavy footsteps. One straight from prison and one who was obviously using the social equipment to build muscle.

And studying the face, Lotor discovered the Galra was female. A big one. Much larger than him.

Something was a little off, but he wasn’t given the chance to ponder over it.

“Tala-shock!” she screamed, sending the crowds hollering as an eager smile bloomed over her face. A bloodthirsty prisoner who’d obviously spent far too much time with the unworthy behind bars.

So his father had chosen a giant, a prisoner. Lotor took a breath before the match would begin. He craned his head, found his family in their row. Honerva sat, Zarkon standing next to her and watching him closely with arms crossed over his chest. Alfor stood too, worry etched between his white brows, but there was also a trace of encouragement in his eyes. Sweet Queen Melenor sat with daughter, holding her hands.

Lotor’s eyes met Allura’s. “Victory,” he said to himself.  Then he looked at the female Galra before him with the outrageous toothy grin hungry for a fight. “Or death.”

And the fight began with a roar from the giant woman as she charged straight for him like an angry beast.

For such a large and heavy being, she was oddly quick on her feet. Lotor sunk his boots into the dirt to brace himself, then dodged her charge, but he felt her power and speed in her wake. She easily stopped herself, spun and aimed that weight for him again, again and again and each and every time he barely escaped her claws as they reached for him, ready to snatch and strike. Larger opponents who relied on the power of their own bodies were easily tired out, a tactic Lotor had used time and time again before he would end the fight with one mighty blow of his sword, but this Galra wasn’t slowing down.

In fact, the chase seemed to fuel her.

“A zippy Prince,” she growled at him happily, her smile never wavering. “Won’t you use that blade in your hand?”  

She wasn’t using hers either, and the way she awkwardly held her short sword at her side told him it wasn’t her weapon of choice. Her eyes were blown out in exhilaration, her fangs sharpened as she charged again, hand clawed for flesh.

Hand to hand was what she preferred, Lotor saw. She wanted to beat him with her own two fists, but they’d given her a blade against him. She didn’t know the sword.

This would be over soon.

With one upward swing, the edge of his sword sliced into her knuckles. She didn’t even stumble from the blow, only glanced down at her bloody hand, the smooth straight cut. She wanted him to use his blade, so he would.

She only laughed heartily.

“Yes!” she yelled, fist pumping through the air. “I’ve been dying for a real fight. Let’s see what you’ve got, _your majesty_.”

From her other side, her short sword sliced through the air for him. Lotor blocked it, the loud clang overpowering the shouts of the crowds in his ears and traveling up his arm. She was taller than him, had more weight to use against him. His upward strikes weren’t as powerful, but her sword couldn’t connect with him. Sparks flew through the air as he shoved her blade back with his own.

He wasn’t expecting the fist that collided with his ribs.

Grunting, he skidded across the dirt, the breath knocked out of his lungs and a flaring pain in his side.

“Let me feel those bones,” she said happily, reaching for him with that great speed.

Lotor thought quickly and used the hilt of his sword to smash into her nose, distracting her so he could zip between her long legs to find her back. With the heel of his boot, he sent it crashing into her spine, making her stumble. It wasn’t good enough, not when he had to duck suddenly from the swing of her arm that held her blade. Swords connected again, his arms aching against her brute strength. They danced around each other, Lotor having to block her sword and her large fists at the same time. The determination in her glowing eyes was not the kind he was used to; not the kind in his own to survive the Galran court, and not the kind he could remember seeing in Acxa’s so she could change her miserable life.

This was joy, and his opponent was determined to keep feeling it. To bring pain by her own two hands.

“Do you lose your Altean if you fall to me?” the Galra asked him as he battled her sword, as her fist connected with his cheek and he spat blood. “This is Tala-shock. This is your devotion. Do those tiny creatures go back to their pretty, magical planet after you embarrass them? Or do _I_ get to have her instead?”

His devotion, Lotor thought, running towards her to continue the battle. All their lives, he had run from Allura and his obligation to her, their betrothal feeling more like the shackles his opponent had arrived to the Pits in than something new and bright for their future. It hadn’t been her fault, but he’d felt the hand around his throat, felt the squeeze and great need to breathe, to run into the wilds of Altea and be alone. No Zarkon, no fights, no Allura.

_We will bring change, you and I._  

Her promise started with him. She’d changed him, and now he didn’t have to run.

Lotor dodged a speedy swipe of the Galra’s claws that narrowly missed his stomach, and used the mishap to yank her to the ground. And surprisingly, he grinned down at her to answer her taunt. “You two would destroy each other.”

She breathed out a laugh. “Then I guess you’ve gotta beat me to keep her.”

“I don’t own her. But I do intend to win.”

“To impress the Emperor?” she asked, wiping a line of blood dripping from her already swollen nose. “Or to impress your mate?” When Lotor didn’t answer, when he only dipped into a battle stance to brace for her next rushing attack, she pushed herself to her feet and cracked her neck from side to side. “Neither then. It’s just the way on this damn planet. Just the way for our kind, isn’t it?”

Lotor didn’t let up, but his eyes and mind were suddenly sharpened like his sword as he stared at her. _Our kind_ , she’d said.

The Galra laughed again. “Mixed blood. Yours gives you a throne, mine throws me in a cage. Yet here we both are. I deserved the cage, of course. I’ve done a naughty thing or two.”

Mixed blood. He looked at his opponent, really looked at her this time for who she was and not a lucky pick out of the prisoners. She was Galra, it was hard to miss, but there were other traits too so unlike their kind. Her coloring was slightly off and the size of her in certain areas wasn’t consistent. He could see it now, and perhaps he should’ve seen it before.

She was a half-blood. Like Acxa. Like him.

When she realized he knew, she sent him a dark smile. “I feel bad having to put a mark on you, Prince Lotor. I’ve admired you from my cell. But the big man’s watching, and I need out of that cage.”

Swords swung and collided again. He started to pant and sweat and his arms were throbbing from her strength each and every time her blade clashed onto his. Both of his hands gripped the handle, his fangs clenched and his boots skidding over the dirt as he tried to hold her off. He couldn’t seem to push her back; his legs weren’t in a good position. The only thing he could do was get himself out from under her before her sword ended Tala-shock and his undefeated title.

Lotor pivoted to release the incredible tension on his arms, but the escape was costly. The half-blood Galra’s blade bit into his shoulder, blood instantly rising and dripping. He growled in pain, his eyes squeezed shut, just for a moment.

The Galra snatched him by his armor, lifted him to eye level, and sent her forehead smashing into his face.

His vision blurred, pain bright and constant in his body, before she threw him, his body skidding over the dirt of the Pits.

The crowd roared around them.

“I’ve been longing to bring some pain,” she called over to him, chucking her short sword away like a piece of garbage as she stomped over to him. Her joy was hard to ignore, and it energized the Colosseum.

A little delirious from the impact and the headbutt, Lotor pushed himself to his hands and knees after dropping his sword, shaking his spinning head to clear it.

“I can’t pummel anyone in prison. I need _out_. And if I have to bloody you up,” she snarled, snatching Lotor from the ground at his back, squeezing him by pressing his spine into her chest in a painful bear hug. “Then so be it, _brother_.”

He couldn’t breathe from her squeezing, and her strength made his injuries flare to a blazing pain, blood from his shoulder wound seeping down onto her. His ribs felt like they would shatter and impale his insides, his aching head filling with unbearable pressure. If he fell unconscious he would lose Tala-shock, his first defeat right in front of Allura when he was supposed to be fighting _for_ her.

Allura, who was watching this madness.

There she was, he thought, his eyes straining to find her in the row as he sunk his claws into the Galra’s arms for a little relief. Allura was standing now too, almost leaning over the railing as she watched him, her mouth open and her blue eyes wide and terrified. She was easy to spot with her abundance of silver hair, her long red dress, and her pink Altean markings. A little piece of Altea, he remembered. One he needed to hang onto when the ways of the Galra were too much for him. Here in the Pits, he was undefeated by submitting completely to that half of himself.

Perhaps to win Tala-shock, he needed to find the other half. The half his mother had given him.

Lotor fell into himself, pushed back the need for blood and worth from a brutal fight. Being part Galra had benefitted him just as much as it hindered him as a hybrid, but he needed the strength of Altea to win against another half-blood who had her own unique skills working for her. The strength of Altea, he thought again as his lungs screamed. As Allura called out to him. Alteans were _strong,_ so strong.

This was Tala-shock. This was his devotion.

_Victory or death_.

He could feel that strength flowing through his veins as he summoned it.

Lotor lifted his knees to his chest at the same time he reached behind for the back of the Galra’s neck, sinking the tips of his claws into her flesh for a secured grip. Before she could object and release her hold on him, he put all of his weight into his legs, vaulted them down with great speed. With his claws in her neck, he used that strength to flip her over his shoulder.

And slam her with everything he had into the ground.

The foundation shook, something nearby cracked. The crowd went silent.

With fangs bared, Lotor snatched his sword from the ground, and hovered the blade over her face like a dagger.

The Tala-shock was won.

The Galra around him roared to life, chanting _Tala-shock_ repeatedly as he caught his breath over his opponent. Blood ran down his arm, his side was most likely bruised and he could feel a black eye forming, but he’d won and it was over. He looked up at the crowd, as he had countless times in victory. He spun, eyes finding the Emperor.

With arms still crossed as the Galra rejoiced around him, Zarkon finally grinned down at his son with pride.

Lotor only looked away. He knew who he wanted to see, and he found her. Allura’s eyes were shiny, her hand over her mouth as Alfor held her against him, his other arm pumping cheerfully through the air. From the ground of the Pits, unsteady on his feet, Lotor lifted his sword up to Allura. This is what his father had felt, what was immortalized in a hologram in the Tribute Hall, when he’d won Tala-shock for Honerva.

And all around Allura, the Galra bowed their heads to her, their fists resting on their chests in honor. To them, she was worthy. She was loyal, and perhaps for the first time, they truly saw her as their future Empress.

Ready to be out of the armor and off to treatment, Lotor glanced down at the half-blood after tossing his sword to the ground. She was still lying right where he’d dropped her, her brows drawn together in shock and pain, but a soft smirk still on her mouth.

“Are you all right?” Lotor asked.

She grunted a bit, tried to laugh but it only made her hurt more. “Pretty sure I have a concussion,” she muttered, then pried her eyes open. “That was some power, Prince Lotor. Mixed blood has its perks, doesn’t it?” She sighed, then sharply blew out a spray of blood from her broken nose that speckled all over her chest. “I may go back to that goddamn cage, but it was an honor to fight you, brother. Best scrap I’ve had in phoebs.”

A cage, Lotor thought, his head already planning. Maybe not the cage. Maybe there was another option for her. But first they both needed medical attention. “What is your name?”

She stared up at him, sent him a half grin. “Zethrid. Sir.”

“Zethrid,” he repeated, then gave her a nod as he prepared to somehow get her to her feet. “The honor was truly mine, my sister.”

 

* * *

 

 

The prince was taken to the infirmary, but not before ordering the staff to tend to Zethrid as well with utmost care and concern. And in the Palace infirmary, the nurses gently removed his armor before tending to his injuries. It could have been worse, they’d told him as they cleaned him up. The cut on his shoulder didn’t require stitches, only some ointment and a bandage, but it would be a painful nuisance in such spot. He had a nasty fist-shaped bruise on his side and a black eye, but he’d managed to escape a concussion from the prisoner’s impressive headbutt. A few more scrapes for his purple skin, but they’d seen to worse on him in the past.

In nothing but black pants, Lotor took a moment to simply sit in the infirmary on the medical table after shooing away the nurses. He needed the stillness of sitting, not fighting, and the quiet instead of the loud cheers of the Empire. He shouldn’t even be here, he thought, brushing his hair back and running a hand down the messy braid. These injuries were for nothing.

Maybe not nothing, he corrected, thinking of his opponent.

His thoughts of the future were interrupted by loud footsteps coming his way down the hall. What staff he could spot outside the door instantly stopped what they were doing to bow. Lotor sighed and sat up straighter on the table.

His father filled the doorway.

Lotor could’ve screamed when he watched Zarkon shake his head from side to side, as if disappointed.

“You’re angry with me, I can see it. But that anger should be redirected. I gave you precise instructions, I set certain rules, and I always expect you to obey them. You didn’t. When will you learn, Lotor, that I mean what I say?” he asked, stepping further into the room, eyes on his son. “You have no one to be angry with but yourself. It’s a good thing, though, that it worked in our favor, yes?”

His father was always most lenient immediately after one of his fights. The Galra thrived on victory, and the Emperor was no exception. He’d decided to keep quiet if his father should find him, but Lotor opened his mouth anyway. “The fight was unnecessary.”

“I disagree. You were victorious.”

“You could’ve punished me after they departed. Were you trying to prove something to them? To Altea? You said Tala-shock worked in our favor. Do you have so little faith in me that you continuously have to sell me to the King?”

Zarkon didn’t even try to deny it. “Alfor’s daughter is fully respected amongst our people now, though the true ramifications of the fight would never come to pass. I was simply tending to two very important requirements when I called for Tala-shock.”

Two important requirements, Lotor thought. His son’s punishment for disobedience, and offering the princess’s worth to the people who might’ve been unsure.

The Emperor of the Galra was always steps ahead of everyone else.

“And you _won_. As I did.” Zarkon approached him, that proud grin on his face again. The only time Lotor could earn it. “These wounds will heal. Perhaps _now_ you understand what I expect of you. Perhaps Tala-shock has taught you to listen to my every word. As long as my flame burns, you will learn to lead this Empire as I would. If you just _do as I say_ , Lotor, then you will be fit to pilot the Black Lion.”

Do as I say. Do as I say.

_Be good._

So many demands. So many expectations. And not one choice of his own.

There had to come a time when it ended. How long was he supposed to live like this?

_How long?_

“I don’t want to be like you,” Lotor whispered with a bowed head.

The grin fell instantly as the Emperor stared at his son. “What?”

The truth, finally the truth. He may not have a choice, and when he did, he was punished for it. But he chose to speak these words now, even if it would bring him trouble. Somewhere deep inside, Zarkon must have known it was coming all along.

“Soon we’ll both be married to an Altean,” Lotor continued softly, all the choices made for him flashing before his eyes, even with one bruised. “Your Tala-shock was _demanded_ by our people, so you made me fight in one of my own. You desperately want me to pilot the Black Lion even while you _know_ that isn’t how it works. That’s what this is about, isn’t it?” he asked, glancing up at Zarkon. “It’s about Voltron, and keeping the Lion in the Empire. You want one part of the greatest weapon in the universe on your planet, in your family. That’s why you treat me the way that you do.”

“The way I _treat you_ ,” Zarkon repeated slowly.

“Yes. This is all your fault,” he said, showing his fathers his current injuries. “I didn’t have to fight. Alfor trusts me with Allura more than you ever have my entire life. You make me fight and hurt myself. You toss me into the Pits and watch me fight until I can no longer stand. And my mother remains _silent_ while you do it.”

“I toss you into the Pits to _build you up_ , you ungrateful child.”

The two went quiet, just staring at each other with glaring eyes of the Galra. Lotor’s heart was pounding in his chest, right under his ribs where it hurt. He’d never lashed out at his father that way, and if he’d started to in the past, he’d always stopped and corrected himself. But he wasn’t a child anymore, Lotor knew. He was a man who would one day be Emperor.

_A future husband steps up for his beloved._

_We will bring change, you and I._

He learned so much since last deca-phoeb.

Zarkon was still, but his eyes were furious. Not the usual anger, Lotor saw, and the air around his father was something he wasn’t used to. The Emperor’s gaze dropped for just a moment, inspecting each wound that could be seen on the body of his son. They may have been acknowledged, but there was absolutely no remorse. There never was.

“Everything I do, everything I have ever done,” Zarkon began, voice deep and deadly, “has been for you and your mother. You may not enjoy my methods of fathering you and I may be _nothing_ like Alfor, but if I’m to have a son, then I will make sure that he is _invincible_ in the eyes of the Empire. The Galra have never merely accepted their leaders, rank is _always_ earned, one way or another. You take pride in your undefeated streak? That is _my_ doing, Lotor, to shape you. Your intelligence, your skill in combat and in a ship, and even your _Altean blood_ , is all because I desired it. You want to sneak off and mate with Alfor’s daughter when I forbade it? Is that all you want? You only have her as a mate because I _secured her for you_.”

Secured her, Lotor thought. Like an object. A game, he remembered, a performance. He was only Zarkon’s winning piece in a game, and the performances weren’t for his own peace of mind. They were acts Zarkon expected, and had put into place long ago. Was he supposed to simply fall into place? Was he supposed to say thank you?

There was only one thing Lotor truly wanted to say.

“Her name is Allura,” he said softly, taking a breath that made him ache everywhere. “You always say _the princess_ or _Alfor’s daughter_. You never use her name. It’s Allura.”

“Wonderful,” Zarkon said dismissively, then reached out and grasped Lotor’s face in his hand. Not hard, just enough to get his son to look right at him. “You don’t have to be exactly like me, Lotor. I release you from that burden, because I see now no Galra will ever command this Empire as I do. But I am still your father. Accept that now, my little half-breed.” 

And with one soft tap to Lotor’s cheek, Zarkon put the proud grin back on his face, turned with a flourish of his cape, and headed for the door. Lotor watched him go, brows furrowed and heart racing.

But it stopped when a rushing Allura almost ran right into the Emperor.

She seemed to jump and stumble back, gasping when she realized who the large body was she’d about collided with. Lotor went motionless as he watched, but once she regained composure, Allura cleared her throat and bowed to him.

“Emperor Zarkon. I apologize.”

Zarkon only stared at her. He looked back at Lotor when he saw the worry on her face, obviously meant for his son because the two were _so very close now_. But instead of supervising, the Emperor decided to let them be. Lotor had won his fight, after all. Tala-shock had bolstered her ties to the Galra.

“Princess,” he said in return, towering over her. “Welcome to the Empire.”

Allura blinked, knowing it would be incredibly rude to bypass Zarkon to get to Lotor without listening to all he had to say to her. “Um… thank you, my Lord.”

With nothing more to add, Zarkon walked off, leaving the two alone.

As soon as he was out of sight, Allura instantly ran to Lotor, taking his outstretched hand and pulling herself close. She ran her hand down his hair, caressed him without squeezing so she wouldn’t aggravate his injuries. She cupped his cheek, ran her thumb under his black eye.

“I don’t know how to feel,” she confessed softly, frowning as she looked at the rest of him. Not terribly injured, but still injured, and for her. “I’m so proud of you, and angry and sad and worried. Lotor, your poor shoulder.”

His eyes warmed when she leaned over and kissed over the bandage, then softly over his bruised cheekbone. “And now the pain is gone.”

She laughed, but the smile instantly fell into a frown again. And now her blue eyes were filling up.

“Allura, don’t cry.”

“I can’t help but feel this is all my fault,” she murmured, sniffing as a tear ran down her cheek that he hastily brushed away. “You said something last deca-phoeb, on Altea after we... I didn’t pressure you to tell me your concerns. I assumed you were only worried about _my_ father’s feelings when it was I who should’ve been more considerate of Zarkon’s when it came to our newfound intimacy. I’m sorry, I didn’t know. And you were punished.”

How perceptive of her, Lotor thought. “It’s my own fault. I should’ve told you the whole truth of what was expected of me. If I’m to be perfectly honest now, I must admit that I didn’t want to scare you off. Or watch the King take you away. Zarkon is… not like Alfor at all.”

She gave a sullen nod. “I know. I’ve always known but… I suppose I just told myself that it was the way of the Galra. Honerva didn’t step in either.”

“Zarkon’s wishes are her wishes, and it is the same the other way around. Please don’t cry,” he pleaded, wrapping a sore arm around her waist and setting his forehead on hers. “I’m fine. And I’m so very sorry if you were frightened.”

“I almost went down there to help you.”

He laughed softly, his heart no longer pounding, but growing in size the longer he was near her. “A fight worthy of the Tribute Hall. My people would’ve collapse in ecstasy if you’d joined the Tala-shock.”

“All the more reason for mine and yours to become one,” she said, carefully wrapping her arms around his neck. “The future will bring many more amazing beings just like you, Lotor. Half Galra and half Altean, charming and courageous and smart. Change is coming, and we are not like our parents. We will be better.”

Amazing beings, he mused, staring into her lovely eyes. If his father and Tala-shock and the Kral Zera hadn’t scared her off, then she was the bravest woman he’d ever met. One he would happily command two combined kingdoms with. “I would fight the entire Empire for you, Allura.”

Shiny eyes again, but no longer in sadness and guilt. When exactly she started to have feelings for him, Lotor couldn’t say, and one day he would ask her. But his own for her were all-consuming, all encompassing, and something he would never run from again.

He needed to kiss her, and she apparently thought the same when she tilted her head, felt the pull of his arm around her waist as he brought her closer. Their lips touched.

But froze from any further movement when they heard a soft clearing of a throat by the door.

The two glanced over her shoulder, and there was the very last person Lotor expected to see.

His mother.

Allura stepped away out of respect, smoothing down her red skirts as a shameful blush formed under her pink crescents. No mother, much less the Empress of Daibazaal, should have to walk in on such a sight.

Honerva was devoid of all emotion as she stood in the doorway. She was still wearing the black and red gown she’d dressed in for the gladiator fights, her gray hair down her back and a small crown around her forehead. A regal Empress who was more at home here than she ever was on Altea, even with those red crescents under her eyes.

“May I have a moment with my son?” she asked Allura, fully expecting the princess to obey her.

Allura nodded quickly. “Of course, your majesty. I will see you tomorrow,” she said to Lotor, squeezing his hand before pulling away, her fingers sliding from his at the last possible moment. As she left, Honerva could plainly see the apprehension on her face to leave him.

She ignored it, and approached her son.

The change on his face was instant, another expression she caught. He’d been so warm, so relaxed around the princess. Now he just looked annoyed and distant, his body tensing up the closer she got to him. Just the way of a mother and her child.

Even Melenor hadn’t produced this reaction, and Lotor barely knew the Queen.

She had no idea what to say, and Lotor was silent as well. To give herself more time, Honerva walked over to the display screen that showed his injuries and what the staff had done to tend to him. She studied it, reading over everything quickly. Medical wasn’t her science, but she could understand most of it. “It seems nothing vital was damaged in your shoulder,” she mentioned to him. “You were not gravely injured.”

“A very fortunate thing my opponent didn’t chop off my arm and leave me disabled.”

Honerva swallowed. Usually Lotor didn’t communicate with her in such a way. At some point in his life, he’d distanced himself from her and only ever spoke to her out of necessity. It hadn’t really caused her any grief as long as he was safe and alive, but the coldness in his voice now ruffled her some. “You’re upset. You weren’t a few ticks ago.”

“I’m upset because this entire mandatory visit, orchestrated by all of you, might I add, seems to constantly be interrupted by my own parents while I try to do exactly what the visits require of me. I spend my life avoiding my betrothed only to be continuously removed from her when I want her around. I told Father before he called for Tala-shock that he was making a mistake, but he refused to listen. And once again, you chose to side with him.”

She waited a beat before she answered. “He is my husband.”

“And I am your son,” he snapped, sending an angry glare her way. “Now I’m injured and can’t entertain Allura the way I’d planned for the rest of her time on Daibazaal because of a meaningless fight that _you_ did not stop. But why should that surprise me? I’ve never been of any importance to you.”

There was that pain again, that sharp twinge under her ribs that came so rarely because of the little time she spent with him. It was better to be locked away in her laboratories, discovering new marvels of the universe. She _knew_ her science, her alchemy. She _knew_ the love she felt for Zarkon, the only man to ever understand her.

She did not know _this_.

“Don’t say such things,” she muttered. It was all she could think to say.

“Why not? We both know it’s the truth. Look at me, Mother,” he said, gesturing to his battered face and sliced arm, his bruised bare skin. “Here I am again, victorious but beaten. I so rarely ever ask for your assistance and the one time I do, the one time it _matters,_ ” he emphasized, the princess on both their minds, “you are silent yet again. Just as you were when I was a boy and didn’t understand what it meant to be betrothed. Just as you always are when Zarkon decides to test me in the most damaging ways possible.”  

Damaging, she mulled, rolling the word around in her mind. The pain in her chest was getting stronger, so strong it was starting to become a distraction. She could barely think.

Had they damaged their son?

“He does what is best for you,” she offered.

“No,” Lotor argued, shaking his head. “It is always for the Empire. For his _flame_. For you.” He thought of the hologram in the Tribute Hall, the scene of his father winning his Tala-shock for Honerva. A real duel of devotion and not the false one witnessed tonight by the Empire. Zarkon shouldn’t have had to fight but fight he did, and he’d been injured, had been pushed to an outdated decision that wasn’t his own by his people. All so the Galra would see Honerva, and know her as Empress. None of it had been asked of Lotor and Allura.

“Never for me,” he finished. Lotor then very carefully hopped off the medical table, winced some from the bruise on his side. Sighing, he reached for his shirt and pulled it over his head.

“Let me…” Honerva began, reaching for him before her hands stopped midair.

“Please don’t. Please.” It pained him in the shoulder, she saw, but only a line between his brows showed it. After covering himself, he sent her one more unimpressed look. “When I was a boy and I needed support from you in a confusing time, you did not give it to me. I learned then that I could not rely on you.”

Lotor held her gaze, looked closely at her expressionless face. He didn’t know her, so he saw nothing there. Just emptiness.

“Nothing has changed,” he said, then walked off, leaving her alone.

He didn’t know her, so he couldn’t see the trembling in her yellow eyes. 

 

* * *

 

 

His injuries truly weren’t excruciating, but just knowing they could’ve been avoided made them all the more inconvenient and sore. The screens told him how late it was, and because of the time, Lotor didn’t think it appropriate to seek out Allura when she could be with her family, or preparing for bed. Hopefully there was nothing else wrong with him adrenaline hadn’t masked, and he could get out of his bed in the morning to find her.

After leaving the infirmary, Lotor went to his quarters to be alone. His room was large and he kept it dark now, his black eye now oozing over the bridge of his nose and to the other one. He’d removed the shirt, threw on a dark blue robe, and attempted to brush out his tangled hair at his desk, the screens from the computers glaring into his eyes and the only light source on. He wanted to crawl into his large bed and sleep, but his mind was still going at a maddening pace. After his hair was combed, he tossed the brush on the desk, tried to continue reading the book written in Altean on the screen.

The signal of a visitor didn’t startle him, but it did surprise him.

Utterly confused, Lotor instantly pulled up security on the screen, tapped on the cameras placed outside his chambers. And again, the last person he expected.

Again, it was his mother.

He was half annoyed and half outrageously curious. And maybe a little cautious. Two visits in one night? Unheard of, but it made him get up and head for the doors. Mentally preparing for… something… Lotor activated the controls and opened them.

Honerva simply stood there, her face always unreadable, her eyes big and intense as they stared at him. She wasn’t talking, wasn’t moving, and the entire ordeal rendered him unresponsive too. They just stared at each other, him with his bruised eyes and hers full of…

Apology. A soul crushing apology she would never be able to actually voice.

Instead… Honerva reached to the side, snagged something neither he nor his cameras could see. She tugged.

And there was Allura. Still in her red dress, still awake. Here. The princess sent him a rueful smile.

He stared at Allura, his face suddenly so bright, and with that brightness came the pain in Honerva’s chest yet again. A brightness that would never be sent her way because perhaps she would never deserve it, just as she hadn’t deserved the grasp of his small hand when he’d been little and needed her. She accepted it, and one day she might regret it. But for now…

When Lotor opened his mouth to say something, she held up a hand and simply guided Allura inside his quarters with him. She watched them, watched the way they grabbed onto each other, the way Allura’s eyes trailed over his injuries and the joy in his that she was here, in a place he thought he could never have her before their wedding. A wedding the commanding royals were responsible for.

Honerva could do nothing for her son because she very well might be incapable of doing it. She couldn’t change the past and would never, ever regret leaving Altea for Zarkon and all she could accomplish here. Lotor would always resent her, in some way.

But she could do this. This is what they wanted, wasn’t it?

An easy calculation.

“I will return for her before dawn,” she told them quietly, then simply turned around and walked off into the darkened hallways of the Galran palace.

And what a gift it was.

He was injured and he’d fought earlier in the evening, but after one dobash of realizing that she was here of all places, Lotor wanted nothing more than to get her out of her red dress and into his bed. The need took him like a heat, like the way it did on Altea in the juniberry field. Her lips were sweet when he tasted them, her skin soft and glorious and stunning with her pink markings that now seemed to glow. Allura had tried to stop him, to remind him of his wounds and that they could wait until he was well, but a night like this was one he thought he’d never have before their wedding.

_I’m sorry I can’t have you in my bed. I wish I could._

Now he could. For one night.

She rose over him like a goddess, the lion goddess, her silver hair cascading down her back and all around him as he ran his hands down her naked spine. She gasped against his mouth as she rode him, when she felt those sharpened claws dig into her hips to encourage her for more, please, he could take it. He wanted all of her, every single inch, so much that she would steal his breath and leave him drained. Slow and gentle and sweet, very mindful of his wounds as she pleasured him, her victorious prince. His eyes, animalistic in his deep desire for her, seemed to cast a spell on her when she picked up the pace, whimpering and moaning when his fangs sank into her shoulder, his arms tight around her and free of all pain as long as he was inside her. He panted, his chest heaving against hers as she ended him.

A varga later, as she was resting on his chest, Lotor stared up at the night sky of Daibazaal above them out of the ceiling window that, with the press of a button, could give him a magnificent view of space. The view of the night sky was sometimes his only sanity, the only way he could see the universe and submit to his desire to explore it.

One day he would.

Allura, naked under the sheets as he was, rubbed her face into his uninjured shoulder before opening her eyes. She’d dozed off for only a moment, found him still awake and watching the stars. Turning onto her back, she laced their fingers together and stared up at the sky with him.

“Lotor,” she said after a few dobashes in silence.

“Hmm?”

Allura kept her eyes on the stars, spotted one shooting by far away in space. Her pink markings illuminated in the glow of Daibazaal’s moon.

“I don’t want to mate with anyone but you either,” she told him softly.

In the dark, in the starlight, he smiled. His little piece of Altea would be with him always because now he was absolutely in love with her. And when she left him in the Red Lion, he hoped she would be able to feel it for the entire deca-phoeb they would be separated and until the universe would watch them reunite yet again. The next time he saw her, it would be on Altea.

And during the summer berry festival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to Altea for one last chapter?

**Author's Note:**

> So we're all in agreement that Lotor goes full Galra when he's horny the way Keith does when he's angry, right? Comments are very appreciated. Until Daibazaal…  
> [My Tumblr](http://mermaider00.tumblr.com/)


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